THE 


LIFE  AND  DISCOURSES 


OP 


SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS, 


FIRST  PRESIDENT  OP  THE  ROYAL  ACADEMY. 


$\xi\  %mmn  $ltttum. 


HUDSON,  OHIO: 
AWYER,   INGERSOLL  AND  COMPANY. 

1853. 


I 


HUDSON,   OHIO  J 

Stereotyped  by  William  II.  Shain,  at  the  Hudson  Stereotype  Foundry. 
Printed  by  Sawyer,  Ingersoll  &  Co.,  Steam  Press,  Pentagon. 


LIFE 


OF 

SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS, 

BY  ALLAN  CUNNINGHAM. 

Joshua,  the  son  of  the  Reverend  Samuel  Reynolds,  and  Theo- 
phila  Potter,  his  wife,  was  the  tenth  of  eleven  children,  five  of 
whom  died  in  infancy.  He  was  born  at  Plympton,  in  Devonshire, 
on  Thursday,  July  16th,  1723,  three  months  before  the  death  of  Sir 
Godfrey  Kneller;  "thus  perpetuating,"  say  some  of  his  biogra- 
phers, "the  hereditary  descent  of  art."  This  descent  of  talent 
had  a  better  security  for  continuation  than  the  life  of  a  new-born 
child.  Wilson  was  ten  years  old,  and  Hogarth  had  already  dis- 
tinguished himself.  The  admirers  and  disciples  of  Sir  Joshua 
imagined  that  the  mantle  of  art  remained  suspended  in  the  air, 
from  the  day  of  Kneller' s  ascent,  and  refrained  from  descending 
upon  other  shoulders  till  their  favorite  rose  to  manhood  and  emi- 
nence. The  pride  of  Reynolds  would  have  resented  in  life  this 
compliment  from  his  friends — he  who  shared  in  imagination  the 
imperial  robe  of  Michael  Angclo,  would  have  scorned  the  meaner 
mantle  of  Godfrey  Kneller. 

Few  men  of  genius  are  allowed  to  be  born  or  baptized  in  an 
ordinary  way ;  some  commotion  in  nature  must  mark  the  hour  of 
their  birth,  some  strange  interposition  must  determine  their  name 
— the  like  happened  to  young  Reynolds.  His  father,  a  clergyman 
of  the  established  church,  gave  him  the  scriptural  name  of  Joshua, 
in  the  belief,  says  Mai  one,  who  had  the  legend  from  Bishop  Percy 
of  Dromore,  that  some  enthusiast  of  the  same  name  might  be 


4 


LIFE. 


induced  to  give  him  a  fortune.  The  family  motives,  as  recorded 
by  Northcote,  had  more  of  the  shrewdness  of  calculation  in  them. 
An  uncle,  from  whom  something  might  be  expected,  lived  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  he  was  a  Joshua.  Owing  to  the  haste  or  care- 
lessness of  the  clergyman,  the  church  may  claim  some  share  in 
the  marvels  which  accompanied  his  birth ;  he  was  baptized  in  one 
name,  and  entered  in  the  parish  register  in  another — the  Joshua 
of  all  the  rest  of  the  world  is  a  Joseph  at  Plympton. 

The  Reverend  Samuel  Reynolds,  a  pious  and  indolent  man, 
who  performed,  without  reproach,  his  stated  duties  in  religion,  and 
presided  with  the  reputation  of  a  scholar  in  the  public  school  of 
Plympton,  seems  to  have  neglected,  more  than  such  a  parent 
ought,  the  education  of  his  son.  It  is  true  that  the  boy,  inspired 
(as  Johnson  intimates  in  his  Life  of  .Cowley)  with  Richardson's 
Treatise  on  Painting,  appeared,  like  Hogarth  before  him,  to  be 
more  inclined  to  make  private  drawings  than  public  exercises ; 
and  it  is  likewise  true  that  his  father  rebuked  those  delinquencies, 
on  one  occasion  at  least,  by  writing  on  the  back  of  a  prohibited 
drawing,  "  Done  by  Joshua  out  of  pure  idleness."  But  transient 
rebuke  will  not  atone  for  habitual  inattention — the  education  which 
we  miss  in  youth  we  rarely  obtain  in  age,  and  a  good  divine  and  a 
learned  parent  could  not  but  know  how  much  learning  adorns  the 
highest  and  brightens  the  humblest  occupation.  Northcote,  the 
pupil,  and  lately  the  biographer  of  Reynolds,  reluctantly  admits 
his  master's  deficiency  in  classical  attainments.  But  his  incessant 
study  of  nature  and  practice  in  art — his  intercourse  with  the 
world  at  large,  and  familiarity  with  men  of  learning  and  ability, 
accomplished  in  after  life  much  of  what  his  father  had  neglected 
in  youth.  "  The  mass  of  general  knowledge  by  which  he  was 
distinguished,"  says  Northcote,  "  was  the  result  of  much  studious 
application  in  his  riper  years."  "  I  know  no  man,"  observed 
Johnson  to  Boswell,  "who  has  passed  through  life  with  more 
observation  than  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds." 

His  father,  however,  conceived  that  he  had  acquired  learning 
sufficient  for  the  practice  of  physic — for  to  that  profession  he  was 
originally  destined.  He  observed  to  Northcote  that  if  such  had 
been  his  career  in  life,  he  should  have  felt  the  same  determination 


LIFE. 


5 


to  become  the  most  eminent  physician,  as  he  then  felt  to  be  the 
first  painter  of  his  age  and  country.  He  believed,  in  short,  that 
genius  is  but  another  name  for  extensive  capacity,  and  that  inces- 
sant and  well-directed  labor  is  the  inspiration  which  creates  all 
works  of  taste  and  talent. 

His  inclination  to  idleness  as  to  reading,  and  industry  in  drawing, 
began  to  appear  early.  "  His  first  essays,"  says  Malone,  who  had 
the  information  from  himself,  "  was  copying  some  slight  draw- 
ings made  by  two  of  his  sisters  who  had  a  turn  for  art ;  he  after- 
ward eagerly  copied  such  prints  as  he  met  with  among  his  father's 
books;  particularly  those  which  were  given  in  the  translation  of 
Plutarch's  Lives,  published  by  Dryden.  But  his  principal  fund 
of  imitation  was  Jacob  Catt's  Book  of  Emblems,  which  his  great- 
grandmother,  by  the  father's  side,  a  Dutch  woman,  had  brought 
with  her  from  Holland."  The  prints  in  Plutarch  are  rude  and 
uncouth ;  those  in  the  Book  of  Emblems  are  more  to  the  purpose, 
and  probably  impressed  upon  him,  by  the  comparison,  that  admi- 
ration of  foreign  art,  which  grew  with  his  growth,  and  strength- 
ened with  his  strength. 

When  he  was  some  eight  years  old,  he  read  "  The  Jesuit's 
Perspective  "  with  so  much  care  and  profit,  that  he  made  a  draw- 
ing of  Plympton  school,  a  plain  Gothic  building,  raised  partly  on 
pillars,  in  which  the  principles  of  that  art  were  very  tolerably  ad- 
hered to.  His  father,  a  simple  man  and  easily  astonished,  exclaim- 
ed, when  he  saw  this  drawing,  "This  is  what  the  author  of  the 
Perspective  asserts  in  his  preface,  that  by  observing  the  rules  laid 
down  in  this  book,  a  man  may  do  wonders — for  this  is  wonderful." 
Had  the  old  man  lived  to  sec  the  great  works  of  his  son,  in  what 
words  would  he  have  expressed  his  admiration? 

The  approbation  of  his  father,  with  his  own  natural  love  of 
art,  induced  him  more  and  more  to  devote  his  time  to  drawing, 
and  neglect  his  studies  at  school.  He  drew  likenesses  of  his 
sisters  and  of  various  friends  of  the  family ;  his  proficiency 
increased  with  practice ;  and  his  ardor  kept  pace  with  his 
growing  skill.  Richardson's  Treatise  on  Painting  was  now 
put  into  his  hands,  "  The  perusal  of  which,"  says  Malone, 
"  so  delighted  and  inflamed  his  mind,  that  Raphael  appeared  to 
1* 


m  .  ■  .■  TP* 

6  LIFE. 

him  superior  to  the  most  illustrious  names  of  ancient  or  modern 
times;  a  notion  which  he  loved  to  indulge  all  the  rest  of  his 
life." 

With  no  other  guides  but  such  prints  as  he  could  collect,  and 
little  support  but  his  own  enthusiasm,  Reynolds  made  many  draw- 
ings and  many  portraits,  in  which  his  friends,  who  now  began  to 
be  attracted  by  his  progress,  perceived  an  increasing  accuracy  of 
outline,  and  a  growing  boldness  and  freedom.  Of  those  boyish 
productions  no  specimen,  I  believe,  is  preserved  ;  he  himself  prob- 
ably destroyed  them,  being  little  pleased  with  what  he  had  done  ; 
but  it  is  'inconceivable  that  a  youth  like  this,  who  gave  so  little  of 
his  leisure  to  other  knowledge,  should  have  executed  nothing 
worthy  of  remembrance  at  the  age  of  nineteen.  There  is  no 
doubt  that,  as  soon  as  he  had  a  fair  field  for  the  display  of  his 
talents,  he  showed  a  mind  stored  with  ready  images  of  beauty, 
and  a  hand  capable  of  portraying  them  with  truth  and  effect. 

A  provincial  place  like  Plympton  was  too  contracted  for  his 
expanding  powers,  and  a  friend  and  neighbor,  of  the  name  of 
Cranch,  advised  that  Joshua,  should  be  sent  to  study  and  improve 
himself  in  London.  To  London  he  was  accordingly  sent  on  the 
fourteenth  of  October,  1741,  and  on  the  eighteenth  of  the  same 
month,  the  day  of  St.  Luke,  the  patron  saint  of  painters,  he  was 
placed  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Hudson.  Of  this  propitious  circum- 
stance, his  biographers  take  particular  notice ;  it  keeps  the  chain 
of  remarkable  circumstances  unbroken.  This  favorite  of  the 
fates  was  born  three  months  before  the  death  of  Kneller ;  was 
named  Joshua  in  a  kind  of  speculation  upon  Providence;  and 
commenced  his  studies  in  London  on  the  day  of  Saint  Luke.  For- 
tune having  done  her  best,  young  Reynolds  had  nothing  more  to 
do  but  stand  in  the  way  and  be  pushed  silently  on  to  wealth  and 
reputation. 

Hudson,  the  most  distinguished  portrait-maker  of  that  time, 
was  nevertheless  a  man  of  little  skill  and  less  talent,  who  could 
paint  a  head,  but  without  other  aid  was  unable  to  place  it  upon 
the  shoulders.  He  was  in  truth  a  mere  manufacturer  of  portraits ; 
and  as  the  taste  and  practice  of  Reynolds  lay  in  the  same  line, 
there  was  some  propriety  in  the  choice.    The  timely  counsel  of 


LIFE.  7 

his  neighbor  Cranch  would  have  long  afterward  been  rewarded 
with  the  present  of  a  silver  cup,  had  not  an  accident  interfered. 
"  Death,"  says  Northcote,  "prevented  this  act  of  gratitude — I 
have  seen  the  cup  at  Sir  Joshua's  table."  The  painter  had  the 
honor  of  the  intention  and  the  use  of  the  cup — a  twofold  advan- 
tage, of  which  he  was  not  insensible. 

At  this  time  Hogarth  was  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  his  fame. 
His  works  were  the  wonder  of  every  one,  and  an  example  to  none. 
His  peculiar  excellence,  indeed,  was  of  such  an  order  that  rivalry 
there  was  hopeless ;  and  no  artist  had  the  sagacity  to  see,  that  by 
adopting  a  style  more  sober  and  less  sarcastic,  with  a  greater  in- 
fusion of  beauty,  a  name  as  great  or  greater  than  his  might  have 
been  achieved.  Students  consumed  their  time  in  drawing  inces- 
santly from  other  men's  works,  and  vainly  thought,  by  gazing 
constantly  on  the  unattainable  excellence  of  Raphael  and  Cor- 
reggio,  to  catch  a  portion  of  their  inspiration.  When  any  one  de- 
parted from  such  tame  and  servile  rules,  he  was  pronounced  a 
Gothic  dreamer,  and  unworthy  of  being  numbered  among  those 
happy  persons  patronised  by  Saint  Luke.  This  accounts  for  the 
name  of  Hogarth  being  rarely  or  never  found  in  the  lectures  or 
letters  of  the  artists  of  his  own  time.  Men  who  are  regularly 
trained  to  the  admiration  of  a  certain  class  of  works,  admit  few 
into  the  ranks  of  painting  who  have  not  a  kind  of  academic  cer- 
tificate, and  lop  carefully  away  all  wild  or  overflourishing  branches 
from  the  tree  of  regular  art.  Among  persons  of  this  stamp,  to 
admire  Hogarth  amounts  to  treason  against  the  great  masters. 
The  painters  of  those  days  were  worshippers  of  the  "  grand  style  " 
— a  term  which  would  seem  to  mean  something  alone  and  unap- 
proachable, for  no  man  offered  to  make  any  approaches  to  it  by 
works  that  partook  of  either  dignity  or  imagination. 

Reynolds  proceeded  with  his  studies  under  Hudson  ;  but  it 
seldom  happens  that  a  man  of  no  genius  and  moderate  skill  can 
give  sound  counsel  to  one  who  longs  for  distinction,  and  has  the 
talent  to  obtain  it.  Instead  of  studying  from  the  best  models,  he 
caused  his  pupil  to  squander  time  in  making  careful  copies  from 
the  drawings  of  Guercino.  These  he  executed  with  so  much  skill, 
that  it  was  difficult  to  distinguish  them  from  the  originals ;  and 


LIFE. 


some  of  them  are,  at  this  present  moment,  shown  in  the  cabinets 
of  the  curious  as  the  masterly  drawings  of  Guercino. 

While  he  remained  with  Hudson  he  went  to  a  sale  of  pictures, 
and  just  before  the  auctioneer  commenced,  he  observed  a  great 
bustle  at  the  door,  and  heard  "Pope!  Pope!"  whispered  round 
the  room.  All  drew  back  to  make  way  for  the  poet  to  pass,  and 
those  who  were  near  enough  held  out  their  hands  for  him  to  touch 
as  he  went  along.  Reynolds  held  out  his,  and  had  the  honor  of 
a  gentle  shake,  of  which  he  was  ever  after  proud.  This  was  one 
of  the  early  anecdotes  of  his  life  which  he  loved  to  relate ;  it 
shows  the  enthusiasm  of  the  young  painter,  and  the  popularity  of 
the  great  poet. 

He  continued  for  two  years  in  the  employment  of  Hudson,  and 
acquired  with  uncommon  rapidity  such  professional  knowledge  as 
could  then  and  there  be  obtained.  He  painted  during  that  period 
various  portraits,  of  which  he  never  gave  any  account,  and  made 
many  sketches  and  studies  which  would  require  a  minute  descrip- 
tion to  be  comprehended.  It  is  enough  to  say,  that  in  general 
they  contained  the  germ  of  some  of  his  future  graces,  and  dis- 
played considerable  freedom  of  handling  and  truth  of  delineation. 
Among  the  productions  most  worthy  of  remembrance,  was  the 
portrait  of  an  elderly  servant-woman  of  Hudson's,  in  which,  says 
Northcote,  he  discovered  a  taste  so  superior  to  the  painters  of  the 
day,  that  his  master,  not  Without  displaying  a  strong  feeling  of 
jealousy,  foretold  his  future  eminence.  It  was  accidentally  ex- 
hibited in  Hudson's  gallery,  and  obtained  general  applause.  This 
was  more  than  the  old  man  could  endure.  Without  any  warm  or 
angry  words,  a  separation  took  place,  and  Reynolds  returned  into 
Devonshire. 

Had  his  talents  been  known,  and  had  his  works  at  that  period 
been  publicly  exhibited,  Reynolds  would  have  remained  in  London ; 
for  patronage  is  ever  ready  to  encourage  skill  such  as  his,  exerted 
in  such  a  department.  He  returned  home,  however,  in  1743,  and 
passed  three  years  in  company,  from  which,  as  he  informed  Ma- 
lone,  little  improvement  could  be  got.  Of  this  misemployment  of 
his  time  he  always  spoke  with  concern.  He  had,  however,  the 
good  sense  to  consider  his  disagreement  with  Hudson  as  a  bless- 


LIFE. 


9 


ing ;  otherwise,  he  confessed,  it  might  have  been  very  difficult  for 
him  to  escape  from  the  tameness  and  insipidity,  from  the  fair  tied 
•wigs,  blue  velvet  coats,  and  white  satin  waistcoats,  which  his 
master  bestowed  liberally  on  all  customers.  Of  the  use  of  the 
three  years  in  question,  Reynolds  was  certainly  a  competent  judge ; 
yet  weight  must  be  allowed  to  the  opinion  of  Northcotc,  who  says, 
that  during  this  period  he  produced  many  portraits,  particularly 
one  of  a  boy  reading  by  a  reflected  light,  which  were  undoubtedly 
very  fine.  And  in  truth,  Sir  Joshua  himself  seems  to  have  ac- 
knowledged this,  when,  on  seeing  some  of  these  pieces  at  the 
distance  of  thirty  years,  he  lamented  that  in  so  great  a  length  of 
time,  he  had  made  so  little  progress  in  his  art. 

It  was  indeed  impossible  for  a  mind  so  active,  and  a  hand  so 
ready,  to  continue  idle ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Reynolds 
was  silently  improving  himself,  even  though  he  was  not  satisfied 
with  the  progress.  There  were  few  paintings  of  excellence  indeed 
near  him,  but  it  is  not  on  admirable  paintings  alone  that  a  painter 
should  look  ;  there  were  beauty  and  manliness  enough  in  Devon- 
shire for  the  purposes  of  his  profession,  and  when  he  was  weary 
of  that,  there  were  the  images  which  he  had  stored  away  in  his 
memory,  and  which  his  fancy  could  recall  whenever  it  was  desirable. 
It  is  more  satisfactory  to  some  of  his  professional  friends  to  think 
that  he  studied  with  profit,  the  works  of  William  Gandy,  of  Exeter 
— a  painter,  some  of  whose  portraits  Reynolds  certainly  spoke  of 
as  equal  to  those  of  Rembrandt.  One  of  Gandy's  works  he  particu- 
larly admired,  the  portrait  of  an  alderman  of  Exeter,  placed  in 
one  of  the  public  buildings  of  that  place  ;  and  one  of  his  observa- 
tions he  took  much  pleasure  in  repeating,  namely,  that  a  picture 
should  have  a  richness  in  its  texture  as  if  the  colors  had  been 
composed  of  cream  or  cheese. 

When  he  was  two-and-twenty  years  old,  Reynolds  and  his  two 
youngest  unmarried  sisters  took  a  house  at  the  town  of  Plymouth 
Dock.  Here  he  occupied  the  first  floor,  and  employed  his  time  in 
painting  portraits.  It  must  be  confessed  that  many  of  his  pro- 
ductions, up  to  this  period,  were  carelessly  drawn — in  common 
attitudes,  and  undistinguished  by  those  excellences  of  coloring 
and  power  of  expression,  which  have  made  his  name  famous.  His 


10 


LIFE. 


old  master,  Hudson,  was  still  strong  within  him.  One  hand  was 
hid  in  the  unbuttoned  waistcoat ;  the  other  held  the  hat,  and  the 
face  was  looking  forwards  with  that  vacant  listlessness  which  is 
the  mark  of  a  sitter  who  conceives  portrait-painting  to  resemble 
shaving,  and  that  the  sine  qua  non  is  to  keep  his  features  stiff  and 
composed.  One  gentleman  desired  to  be  distinguished  from  others, 
and  was  painted  with  his  hat  on  his  head  ;  yet  so  inveterate  had 
the  practice  of  painting  in  one  position  become,  that — if  there  be 
any  truth  in  a  story  as  yet  uncontradicted — when  the  likeness  was 
sent  home,  the  wife  of  the  patient  discovered  that  her  husband 
had  not  only  one  hat  on  his  head  but  another  under  his  arm.  It 
is,  however,  well  known  that,  even  when  his  reputation  was  high, 
Reynolds  permitted  ladies,  and  gentlemen,  too,  to  select  for  them- 
selves the  positions  they  wished  to  be  painted  in ;  and  his  Devon- 
shire patrons  of  this  early  period  might  in  all  likelihood  consider 
it  as  desirable  to  appear,  as  much  as  possible,  like  their  fathers 
and  their  friends.  When  left  to  the  freedom  of  his  own  will,  some 
of  his  attitudes,  even  in  these  days,  were  bold  enough.  A  portrait 
of  himself,  which  represents  him  with  pencils  and  palette  in 
his  left  hand,  and  shading  the  light  from  his  eyes  with  his  right, 
was  painted  at  this  time,  and  is,  without  doubt,  a  work  of  great 
merit. 

Miss  Chudleigh,  a  young  lady  of  rare  beauty,  afterward  too 
famous  as  Duchess  of  Kingston,  happened  to  be  on  a  visit  at  Sal- 
tram  in  the  neighborhood  of  Plymouth,  and  sat  for  her  portrait. 
This  seems  to  have  pleased  Reynolds  less  than  another  sitter, 
whom  he  obtained  at  the  same  time,  for  he  could  not  foresee  that 
she  would  become  a  duchess.  This  was  the  commissioner  of 
Plymouth  Dock ;  he  wrote  to  his  father  with  a  joy  which  he  sought 
not  to  conceal,  that  he  had  painted  the  likeness  of  the  greatest 
man  in  the  place.  The  performance  which  obtained  him  most  no- 
tice was  the  portrait  of  Captain  Hamilton,  of  the  noble  family  of 
Abercorn.    It  was  painted  in  1746. 

On  Christmas  day,  in  the  year  1746,  his  father  died.  He  was 
a  man  of  respectable  learning,  and  remarkable  for  the  innocence 
of  his  heart  and  the  simplicity  of  his  manners.  He  was  what  is 
called  an  absent  man,  and  was  regarded  by  his  parishioners  as  a 


LIFE. 


11 


sort  of  Parson  Adams.  Of  his  forgetfulness  it  is  said  that,  in 
performing  a  journey  on  horseback,  one  of  his  boots  dropped  off 
by  the  way  without  being  missed  by  the  owner ;  and  of  his  wit — 
for  wit  also  has  been  ascribed  to  him — it  is  related  that,  in  allusion 
to  his  wife's  name,  T lieophila,  he  made  the  following  rhyming  do- 
mestic arrangement : 

When  I  say  The 
Thou  must  make  tea— 
When  I  say  Offey 
Thou  must  make  coffee. 

Reynolds  was  now  twenty -three  years  old,  and  his  name  was 
beginning  to  be  heard  beyond  the  limits  of  his  native  county. 
He  had  acquired  the  friendship  and  earnest  patronage  of  the  third 
Lord  Edgcumbe,  and  of  Captain,  afterward  Lord,  Keppel.  He 
had  paid  a  second  visit  to  London,  and  lived  for  a  time  in  Saint 
Martin's  Lane,  then  the  favorite  residence  of  artists,  and  where 
something  which  resembled  an  academy  was  established.  His 
growing  fame  and  skill  acquired  and  secured  friends,  and  his 
graceful  and  unpresuming  manners  were  likely  to  forward  his 
success  ;  he  was  polite  without  meanness,  and  independent  with- 
out arrogance. 

Rome,  which  is  in  reality  to  painters  what  Parnassus  is  in 
imagination  to  poets,  was  frequently  present  to  the  fancy  of  Rey- 
nolds ;  and  he  longed  to  see  with  his  own  eyes  the  glories  in  art 
of  which  he  heard  so  much.  He  desired  to  pay  his  homage 
to  the  princes  of  the  profession,  and  profit,  if  possible,  by  study- 
ing their  productions.  A  visit  to  the  Sistine  Chapel  confers  on  an 
artist  that  kind  of  dignity,  which  studying  at  a  university  be- 
stows on  a  scholar ;  and  one  would  imagine,  from  the  importance 
attached  to  such  a  pilgrimage,  that  excellence  in  painting  could 
be  acquired  like  knowledge  in  Greek.  But  the  power  to  remem- 
ber is  one  thing,  and  the  power  to  create  is  another. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1749,  Captain  Keppel  was  appointed 
Commodore  in  the  Mediterranean  station,  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
tecting the  British  merchants  from  the  insults  of  the  Algerines, 
and  he  invited  Reynolds  to  accompany  him.  The  young  artist 
willingly  embarked  with  the  full  equipment  of  his  profession,  and 


12 


LIFE. 


touching  at  Lisbon,  went  ashore,  and  witnessed  several  religious 
processions.  He  next  visited  Gibraltar ;  and  on  the  20th  of  July 
landed  at  Algiers,  where  he  was  introduced  to  the  Dey,  who  be- 
haved with  civility,  and  dismissed  Keppel  and  his  companion  with 
assurances  of  amity  and  good  will,  which  he  afterward  seemed 
disinclined  to  keep.  From  Algiers  they  sailed  for  Minorca,  and 
landed  at  Port  Mahon  on  the  23d  of  August.  The  friendship  of 
Keppel  and  the  kindness  of  General  Blakeney  were  here  very  ser- 
viceable ;  through  their  influence  and  his  own  skill,  Reynolds  was 
employed  to  paint  portraits  of  almost  all  the  officers  in  the  garri- 
son ;  and  as  he  lived  free  of  all  expense  at  the  governor's  table, 
he  improved  his  fortune  at  the  same  time  that  he  exercised  his 
talents. 

Reynolds  was  detained  in  Minorca  longer  than  he  wished.  As 
he  was  taking  an  airing  on  horseback,  his  horse  took  fright,  and 
rushed  with  him  down  a  precipice,  by  which  his  face  was  severely 
cut,  and  his  lip  so  much  bruised  that  he  was  compelled  to  have 
some  of  it  cut  away.  A  slight  deformity  marked  his  mouth  ever 
after.  His  deafness  was  imputed  by  some  to  the  same  misfortune ; 
but  that  misfortune  dated  from  a  dangerous  illness  in  Rome.  After 
a  residence  of  three  months,  he  left  Port  Mahon,  landed  at  Leg- 
horn, and  went  directly  to  Rome. 

Of  his  first  sensations  in  the  Metropolis  of  Art,  he  has  left  us 
a  minute  account.  "  It  has  frequently  happened,"  says  he,  "  as  I 
was  informed  by  the  keeper  of  the  Vatican,  that  many  of  those 
whom  he  had  conducted  through  the  various  apartments  of  that 
edifice,  when  about  to  be  dismissed,  have  asked  for  the  works  of 
Raphael,  and  would  not  believe  that  they  had  already  passed 
through  the  rooms  where  they  are  preserved ;  so  little  impression 
had  those  performances  made  on  them.  One  of  the  first  painters 
in  France  once  told  me  that  this  circumstance  happened  to  him- 
self ;  though  he  now  looks  on  Raphael  with  that  veneration  which 
he  deserves  from  all  painters  and  lovers  of  the  art.  I  remember 
very  well  my  own  disappointment  when  I  first  visited  the  Vatican ; 
but  on  confessing  my  feelings  to  a  brother  student,  of  whose  in- 
genuousness I  had  a  high  opinion,  he  acknowledged  that  the  works 
of  Raphael  had  the  same  effect  on  him,  or  rather  that  they  did 


LIFE. 


13 


not  produce  the  effect  which  he  expected.    This  was  a  great  relief 
to  my  mind  ;  and  on  inquiring  farther  of  other  students,  I  found 
that  those  persons  only  who,  from  natural  imbecility,  appeared  to 
be  incapable  of  relishing  those  divine  performances,  made  preten- 
sions to  instantaneous  raptures  on  first  beholding  them.    In  justice 
to  myself,  however,  I  must  add,  that  though  disappointed  and  mor- 
tified at.  not  finding  myself  enraptured  with  the  works  of  this  great 
master,  I  did  not  for  a  moment  conceive  or  suppose  that  the  name  of 
Raphael,  and  those  admirable  paintings  in  particular,  owed  their 
reputation  to  the  ignorance  and  prejudice  of  mankind  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, my  not  relishing  them,  as  I  was  conscious  I  ought  to  have 
done,  was  one  of  the  most  humiliating  circumstances  that  ever 
happened  to  me  ;  I  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  works  executed 
upon  principles  with  which  I  was  unacquainted  ;  I  felt  my  igno- 
rance, and  stood  abashed.    All  the  indigested  notions  of  painting 
which  I  had  brought  with  me  from  England,  where  the  art  was  in 
the  lowest  state  it  had  ever  been  in,  (it  could  not  indeed  be  lower,) 
were  to  be  totally  done  away  and  eradicated  from  my  mind.  It 
was  necessary,  as  it  is  expressed  on  a  very  solemn  occasion,  that 
I  should  become  as  a  little  child.    Notwithstanding  my  disappoint- 
ment, I  proceeded  to  copy  some  of  those  excellent  works.  I 
viewed  them  again  and  again  ;  I  even  affected  to  feel  their  merit 
and  admire  them  more  than  I  really  did.    In  a  short  time  a  new 
taste  and  a  new  perception  began  to  dawn  upon  me,  and  I  was 
convinced  that  I  had  originally  formed  a  false  opinion  of  the  per- 
fection of  art,  and  that  this  great  painter  was  well  entitled  to  the 
high  rank  which  he  holds  in  the  admiration  of  the  world.  The 
truth  is,  that  if  these  works  had  really  been  what  I  expected, 
they  would  have  contained  beauties  superficial  and  alluring,  but 
by  no  means  such  as  would  have  entitled  them  to  the  great  repu- 
tation which  they  have  borne  so  long,  and  so  justly  obtained." 

That  Reynolds  had  imagined  the  Vatican  filled  with  works  of 
another  order  from  what  he  fcund  there,  is  only  informing  us  that 
in  his  earlier  years  he  thought  differently  from  Raphael.  He  had 
been  accustomed  to  admire  stiff  or  extravagant  attitudes,  and  to 
put  faith  in  works  deficient  in  the  sober  dignity  and  majestic  sim- 
plicity which  distinguished  the  illustrious  Italian.  He  saw  those 
2 


14 


LIFE. 


noble  productions  ;  and  though  at  first  he  could  not  feel  their  ex- 
cellence, he,  before  he  left  Rome,  became  one  of  their  daily  wor- 
shippers. All  this  was  very  natural ;  but  the  conclusion  which 
Reynolds  draws,  viz.  that  none  but  an  imbecile  person  can  be 
alive  at  first  sight  to  the  genius  of  a  Raphael,  is  certainly  rash, 
and,  most  probably,  erroneous. 

"  Having,"  he  says,  "since  that  period  frequently  revolved  the 
subject  in  my  mind,  I  am  now  clearly  of  opinion  that  a  relish  for 
the  higher  excellences  of  art  is  an  acquired  taste,  which  no  man 
ever  possessed  without  long  cultivation  and  great  labor  and  atten- 
tion. On  such  occasions  as  that  which  I  have  mentioned,  we  are 
often  ashamed  of  our  apparent  dulness  ;  as  if  it  were  to  be  ex- 
pected that  our  minds,  like  tinder,  should  catch  fire  from  the  di- 
vine spark  of  Raphael's  genius.  I  flatter  myself  that  now  it 
would  be  so,  and  that  I  have  a  just  and  lively  perception  of  bis 
great  powers ;  but  let  it  be  always  remembered,  that  the  excel- 
lence of  his  style  is  not  on  the  surface,  but  lies  deep ;  and  at  the 
first  view  is  seen  but  mistily.  It  is  the  florid  style  which  strikes 
at  once,  and  captivates  the  eye  for  a  time,  without  ever  satisfying 
the  judgment.  Nor  does  painting  in  this  respect  differ  from  other 
arts.  A  just  poetical  taste,  and  the  acquisition  of  a  nice  discrim- 
inative musical  ear,  are  equally  the  work  of  time.  Even  the  eye, 
however  perfect  in  itself,  is  often  unable  to  distinguish  between 
the  brilliancy  of  two  diamonds ;  though  the  experienced  jeweler 
will  be  amazed  at  its  blindness ;  not  considering  that  there  was  a 
time  when  he  himself  could  not  have  been  able  to  pronounce  which 
of  the  two  was  the  more  perfect." 

I  must  repeat  that  I  doubt  as  to-all  this.  True  art  is  nature 
exalted  and  refined ;  but  it  is  nature  still.  We  look  on  a  noble 
scene — on  a  high  mountain — on  a  mighty  sea — on  a  troubled  sky 
— or  on  any  of  the  splendid  pictures  which  the  Lord  of  the  uni- 
verse spreads  before  his  creatures,  and  we  require  no  long  course 
of  study,  no  series  of  academic  lectures  on  light  and  shade,  to 
enable  us  to  feel  their  grandeur  or  their  beauty.  If  the  study  of 
many  years,  and  great  labor  and  attention,  be  absolutely  necessa- 
ry to  enable  men  to  comprehend  and  relish  the  nobler  productions 
of  the  poet  and  the  painter — then  who  has  not  j  udged  by  guess 


LIFE. 


15 


and  admired  by  random  some  of  the  most  glorious  works  of  the 
human  mind  ?  That  it  cost  Reynolds  much  time  and  study  to 
understand  and  admire  them,  is  nothing.  He  had  to  banish  pre- 
conceived false  notions ;  to  dismiss  idolized  and  merely  conven- 
tional beauties,  and  strip  himself  of  labored  absurdities,  with 
which  he  had  been  bedecking  himself  from  his  infancy.  He  had 
to  rise  out  of  false  art  into  true  nature — and  this  was  not  to  be  done 
in  a  day.  But  is  it  necessary  that  all  men  should  start  with  a 
false  theory  ?  The  acquisition  of  a  natural  taste  in  poetry,  or  a 
correct  musical  apprehension,  may  be  the  work  of  time  with  some, 
but  they  are  as  certainly  a  kind  of  inspiration  in  others.  Rey- 
nolds himself  seems  to  have  thought  with  more  accuracy  when  he 
wrote  as  follows  : 

"  The  man  of  true  genius,"  says  he,  "instead  of  spending  all 
his  hours,  as  many  artists  do  while  they  are  at  Rome,  in  measu- 
ring statues  and  copying  pictures,  soon  begins  to  think  for  him- 
self, and  endeavors  to  do  something  like  what  he  sees.  I  consider 
general  copying  a  delusive  kind  of  industry ;  the  student  satisfies 
himself  with  the  appearance  of  doing  something ;  he  falls  into  the 
dangerous  habit  of  imitating  without  selecting,  and  of  laboring 
without  any  determinate  object;  as  it  requires  no  effort  of  the 
mind,  he  sleeps  over  his  work,  and  those  powers  of  invention  and 
disposition,  which  ought  particularly  to  be  called  out  and  put  in 
action,  lie  torpid,  and  lose  their  energy  for  want  of  exercise. 
How  incapable  of  producing  any  thing  of  their  own  those  are  who 
have  spent  most  of  their  time  in  making  finished  copies,  is  an  ob- 
servation well  known  to  all  who  are  conversant  with  our  art." 

To  Reynold's  own  written  account  I  may  add  the  testimony  of 
a  friend,  who  often  conversed  with  him  upon  the  glories  of  Rome  : 
"  When  arrived  in  that  garden  of  the  world" — says  Northcote — 
"  that  great  temple  of  the  arts,  his  time  was  diligently  and  judi- 
ciously employed  in  such  a  manner  as  might  have  been  expected 
from  one  of  his  talents  and  virtue.  He  contemplated  with  unwea- 
ried attention  and  ardent  zeal  the  various  beauties  which  marked  the 
style  of  different  schools  and  different  ages.  It  was  with  no  com- 
mon eye  that  he  beheld  the  productions  of  the  great  masters.  He 
copied  and  sketched  in  the  Vatican  such  parts  of  the  works  of 


10 


LIFE. 


Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  as  he  thought  would  be  most  condu- 
cive to  his  future  excellence,  and  by  his  well  directed  study  ac- 
quired, while  he  contemplated  the  best  works  of  the  best  masters, 
that  grace  of  thinking,  to  which  he  was  principally  indebted  for 
his  subsequent  reputation  as  a  portrait  painter." 

Much,  however,  as  Reynolds  in  his  lectures  inculcates  the  ne- 
cessity of  constantly  copying  the  great  masters — it  appears  that 
he  did  but  little  in  this  way  himself.  "  Of  the  few  copies  which 
he  made  while  at  Rome,"  says  Malone,  "  two  are  now  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  Earl  of  Inchquin,  who  married  his  niece,  Miss 
Palmer,  St.  Michael  the  Archangel  slaying  the  dragon,  after  Guido, 
and  the  school  of  Athens  from  Raphael — both  masterly  perform- 
ances." Rome  at  that  period  swarmed  with  those  English  con- 
noisseurs and  travelers  of  taste  whom  Hogarth  so  sharply  sati- 
rized and  hated  so  cordially.  They  were  all  anxious  to  have 
copies  of  favorite  works  made  by  an  artist  so  able  as  Reynolds ; 
he  felt,  however,  the  folly  of  multiplying  pictures,  and  eluded 
their  alluring  offers.  "While  I  was  at  Rome,"  he  says,  "I  was 
very  little  employed  by  travelers,  and  that  little  I  always  consid- 
ered as  so  much  time  lost." 

Of  the  character  and  course  of  his  technical  studies  in  Rome, 
he  has  left  a  minute  account ;  which,  however,  is  chiefly  valuable 
to  the  student  in  painting — for  the  language  is  that  of  the  craft. 
Having  filled  his  mind  with  the  character  of  the  great  painters, 
and  possessed  himself,  as  he  believed,  with  no  small  portion  of 
their  spirit,  he  proceeded  to  examine  into  the  mechanical  sorcery 
of  their  execution,  and  to  dissect  the  varied  colors  which  were 
blended  on  their  canvass.  ''The  Leda  in  the  Colonna  Palace,  by 
Correggio,"  he  says,  "  is  dead-colored  white,  and  black  or  ultra- 
marine in  the  shadows  ;  and  over  that  is  scumbled  thinly  and 
smooth  a  warmer  tint — I  believe  caput  mortuum.  The  lights  are 
mellow,  the  shadows  bluish,  but  mellow.  The  picture  is  painted 
on  a  panel  in  a  broad,  large  manner,  but  finished  like  an  enamel ; 
the  shadows  harmonize,  and  are  lost  in  the  ground. 

"  The  Adonis  of  Titian  in  the  Colonna  Palace  is  dead-colored 
white,  with  the  muscles  marked  bold;  the  second  painting  has 
scumbled  a  light  color  over  it;  the  lights  a  mellow  flesh-color.;  the 


LIFE. 


17 


shadows  in  the  light  parts  of  a  faint  purple  hue  ;  at  least  they 
were  so  at  first.  That  purple  hue  seems  to  be  occasioned  by 
blackish  shadows  under,  and  the  color  scumbled  over  them.  I 
copied  the  Titian  with  white,  umber,  minio,  cinnabar,  black ;  the 
shadows  thin  of  color. 

"  Poussin's  landscapes  in  the  Verospi  palace  are  painted  on  a 
dark  ground  made  of  Indian  red  and  black.  The  same  ground 
might  do  for  all  other  subjects  as  well  as  landscapes. 

"  In  respect  to  painting  the  flesh  tint,  after  it  has  been  finished 
with  very  strong  colors,  such  as  ultra-marine  and  carmine,  pass 
white  over  it  very,  very  thin  with  oil.  I  believe  it  will  have  a 
wonderful  effect.  Make  a  finished  sketch  of  every  portrait  you 
intend  to  paint,  and  by  the  help  of  that  dispose  your  living  model ; 
then  finish  at  the  first  time  on  a  ground  made  of  Indian  red  and 
black." 

Through  all  his  letters  and  memorandums  there  are  scattered 
allusions  to  his  favorite  art,  and  the  works  of  the  chief  masters  ; 
and  opinions  are  given,  and  a  scale  of  comparative  excellence  laid 
down,  in  a  manner  equally  clear,  candid,  and  accurate.  It  is  true 
that  he  dictates  rules  for  the  guidance  of  others  which  he  did  not 
follow  himself.  When  he  became  acquainted  with  all  the  wiles 
and  stratagems  of  position  and  light  and  shade,  he  could  dispense 
with  the  practice  of  making  sketches  of  portraits,  and  depend  on 
his  experience. 

"In  comparison  with  Titian  and  Paul  Veronese,"  he  observes, 
"  all  the  other  Venetian  masters  appear  hard  ;  they  have  in  a 
degree  the  manner  of  Rembrandt — all  mezzotinto,  occasioned  by 
scumbling  over  their  pictures  with  some  dark  oil  or  color.  There 
is  little  color  in  the  shadows,  but  much  oil —  they  seem  to  be  made 
only  of  a  drying  oil  composed  of  red  lead  and  oil.  There  are 
some  artists  who  are  diligent  in  examining  pictures,  and  yet  are 
not  at  all  advanced  in  their  judgment ;  although  they  can  remem- 
ber the  exact  color  of  every  figure  in  the  picture ;  but  not  reflect- 
ing deeply  on  what  they  have  seen,  or  making  observations  to 
themselves,  they  are  not  at  all  improved  by  the  crowd  of  par- 
ticulars that  swim  on  the  surface  of  their  brains  ;  as  nothing 
enters  deep  enough  into  their  minds  to  do  them  benefit  through 
2* 


18 


LIFE, 


digestion.  A  painter  should  form  his  rules  from  pictures  rather 
than  from  books  or  precepts.  Rules  were  first  made  from  pictures, 
not  pictures  from  rules.  Every  picture  an  artist  sees,  whether 
the  most  excellent  or  the  most  ordinary,  he  should  consider  from 
whence  that  fine  effect,  or  that  ill  effect,  proceeds ;  and  then  there 
is  no  picture  ever  so  indifferent,  but  he  may  look  at  to  his  profit." 

On  our  English  connoisseurs  and  travelers  of  taste,  he  has 
written  some  sharp  and  just  remarks.  This  country,  at  that  pe- 
riod, and  long  after,  exported  swarms  of  men  with  the  malady  of 
vertu  upon  them,  who  brought  back  long  lists  of  pictures,  and 
catalogues  of  artists'  names — and  set  up  for  dictators  here  at 
home  with  no  other  stock.  "  The  manner,"  says  Reynolds,  "  of 
the  English  travelers  in  general,  and  of  those  who  most  pique 
themselves  on  studying  vertu,  is  that,  instead  of  examining  the 
beauties  of  these  works  of  fame,  and  why  they  are  esteemed,  they 
only  inquire  the  subject  of  the  picture  and  the  name  of  the 
painter,  the  history  of  a  statue,  and  where  it  is  found,  and  write 
that  down.  Some  Englishmen,  while  I  was  in  the  Vatican,  came 
there,  and  spent  above  six  hours  in  writing  down  whatever  the 
antiquary  dictated  to  them.  They  scarcely  ever  looked  at  the 
paintings  the  whole  time." 

Reynolds  extended  his  inquiries  among  the  remains  of  ancient 
art,  and  endeavored  to  ascertain,  by  what  he  could  glean  from  the 
classic  writers,  and  by  what  he  could  discover  in  the  remaining 
statues,  how  far  the  paintings  of  ancient  Greece  resembled  those 
of  modern  Rome.  His  conclusions  can  only  be  considered  as  ex- 
pressions of  belief,  on  a  subject  with  regard  to  which  we  have  not 
the  materials  of  certain  knowledge.  He  stayed  in  Rome  till  his 
judgment  ripened,  and  gazed  on  the  productions  of  Raphael  and 
Michael  Angelo  till  the  mercury  of  his  taste  rose  to  the  point  of 
admiration.  He  then  concluded,  that  as  those  works  were  the 
most  perfect  in  the  world,  the  paintings  of  antiquity  must  have 
been  in  character  the  same — in  short,  that  the  "  grand  style  "  had 
descended  direct  from  Apelles  to  Raphael.  From  an  anecdote  in 
Pliny  of  the  painter  and  the  partridge,  he  conceived  that  a  lively 
copy  of  nature  was  held  as  a  vulgar  thing  by  the  painters  of 
Greece,  and  that  they  approached  living  life  no  nearer  than  the 


LIFE. 


10 


sculptor  of  the  Belvedere  Apollo.  This  theory,  however,  appears 
to  be  contradicted  by  the  Elgin  marbles,  and  by  the  poetry  of  the 
nation,  which  is  full  of  graphic  images  of  homely,  as  well  as  heroic, 
life.  These  conclusions,  and  his  constant  admonition  to  study  the 
"  grand  style,"  and  think  of  nothing  but  what  is  heroic  or  godlike 
as  a  subject  for  the  pencil,  have  helped  to  misdirect  the  minds  of 
students,  and  beget  a  monotony  of  composition,  through  which 
nothing  but  strong  and  decided  genius  can  break.  Few  men  are 
born  with  powers  equal  to  the  divine  grandeur  of  such  works — 
and  many  a  good  painter  of  domestic  life  may  attribute  the  labo- 
rious dulness  of  his  historic  compositions  to  the  incessant  cry  of 
all  academies  about  the  study  of  the  "  grand  style."  Hear  how 
Reynolds  commends  the  absence  of  nature  : 

"  Suppose  a  person  while  he  is  contemplating  a  capital  picture 
by  Raphael  or  the  Carracci,  while  he  is  wrapped  in  wonder  at  the 
sight  of  St.  Paul  preaching  at  Athens,  and  the  various  dispositions 
of  his  audience — or  is  struck  with  the  distress  of  the  mother  in 
the  Death  of  the  Innocents — or  with  tears  in  his  eyes  beholds  the 
Dead  Christ  of  Carracci — would  it  not  offend  him  to  have  his 
attention  called  off  to  observe  a  piece  of  drapery  in  the  picture 
naturally  represented?" 

"What  is  it  that  drapery  ought  to  resemble — and  wherewithal 
shall  a  man  be  clothed,  that  his  garments  may  not  look  too  natu- 
ral ?  The  living  St.  Paul  himself  was  under  no  such  apprehen- 
sion ;  nor  is  it  recorded  that  he  failed  in  any  of  his  missions  be- 
cause the  heathen  paid  more  attention  to  his  clothes  than  his  elo- 
quence. The  sentiment  and  character  of  the  figure  will  dictato 
the  drapery,  and  when  these  are  strong,  and  true,  and  natural, 
they  will  always  predominate  over  the  accessaries.  Had  he  ad- 
vised to  clothe  a  figure  gayly  or  gravely  according  to  the  style  of 
the  countenance  and  gesture,  Reynolds  would  have  spoken  more 
in  keeping  with  his  own  practice. 

He  seems  to  have  employed  his  time  at  Rome  chiefly  in  study- 
ing all  the  varieties  of  excellence,  and  in  acquiring  that  knowl- 
edge of  effect  which  he  was  so  soon  to  display.  The  severe  dignity 
of  Angelo  or  Raphael  he  had  no  chance  of  attaining,  for  he  want- 
ed loftiness  of  imagination,  without  which  no  grand  work  can 


20 


LIFE. 


ever  be  achieved ;  but  he  had  a  deep  sense  of  character,  great 
skill  in  light  and  shade,  a  graceful  softness  and  an  alluring 
sweetness,  such  as  none  have  surpassed.  From  the  works  of  Leo- 
nardo da  Vinci,  Fra.  Bartolomeo,  Titian,  and  Velasquez,  he  ac- 
quired knowledge  which  placed  fortune  and  fame  within  his 
reach ;  yet  of  these  artists  he  says  little,  though  he  acknowledges 
the  portrait  of  Innocent  the  Tenth,  by  the  last  named  of  them,  to 
be  the  finest  in  the  world. 

Few  original  productions  came  from  the  hand  of  Reynolds 
while  he  remained  at  Rome.  He  painted  a  noble  portrait  of  him- 
self, and  left  it  in  that  city  ;  and  he  also  painted  a  kind  of  parody 
on  Raphael's  School  of  Athens,  into  which  he  introduced  about 
thirty  likenesses  of  English  students,  travelers,  and  connoisseurs, 
and  among  others  that  of  Mr.  Henry,  of  StrafFan,  in  Ireland,  the 
proprietor  of  the  picture.  "I  have  heard  Reynolds  himself  say," 
remarks  Northcote,  "  that  it  was  universally  allowed  that  he  exe- 
cuted subjects  of  this  kind  with  much  humor  and  spirit,  yet  he 
thought  it  prudent  to  abandon  the  practice,  since  it  might  corrupt 
his  taste  as  a  portrait  painter,  whose  duty  it  was  to  discover  only 
the  perfections  of  those  whom  he  represented." 

During  the  period  of  his  studies  at  Rome,  Reynolds  was  the 
companion  of  John  Astley,  who  had  been  his  fellow  pupil  in  the 
school  of  Hudson.  This  was  an  indifferent  artist  and  an  imper- 
fect scholar — for  he  would  rather  run  three  miles  to  deliver  a 
message  by  word  of  mouth  than  write  the  shortest  note — but  his 
person  attracted  the  notice  of  a  lady  of  noble  birth,  who,  more- 
over, brought  him  a  very  handsome  fortune.  Before  his  marriage 
he  was  poor  and  nearly  destitute  ;  yet  he  had  a  proud  heart  and 
strove  to  conceal  his  embarrassments.  One  summer  day,  when 
the  sun  was  hot,  and  he,  Reynolds,  and  a  few  others  were  indulg- 
ing themselves  in  a  country  excursion,  there  was  a  general  call  to 
cast  off  coats — Astley  obeyed  with  manifest  reluctance,  and  not 
until  he  had  stood  many  sarcasms  from  his  friends.  He  had 
made  the  back  of  his  waistcoat  out  of  one  of  his  own  landscapes, 
and  when  he  stripped,  he  displayed  a  foaming  waterfall,  much  to 
his  own  confusion,  and  the  mirth  of  his  companions. 

From  Rome,  Reynolds  went  to  Bologna  and  Genoa.    He  was 


LIFE. 


21 


not  one  of  those  artists  who  sec — or  think  they  see — through  all 
the  deep  mysteries  of  conception  and  execution  at  a  glance ;  he 
perused  and  repcrused,  and  considered  and  compared  with  the 
assiduity  and  anxiety  of  a  man  ambitious  to  be  counted  with  the 
foremost,  and  resolved  not  to  fail  for  want  of  labor.  lie  was  more 
frugal  of  his  remarks  while  at  these  cities  than  when  he  was  at 
Home ;  nor  are  the  few  which  he  did  set  down  of  any  value, 
either  to  students  or  travelers.  From  Genoa  he  went  to  Parma, 
and  this  is  his  memorandum  respecting  the  painting  in  the  cupola 
of  the  cathedral  : 

"  Relieve  the  light  part  of  the  picture  with  a  dark  ground,  or 
the  dark  part  with  a  light  ground,  which  ever  will  have  the  most 
agreeable  effect  or  make  the  best  mass.  The  cupola  of  Parma 
has  the  dark  objects  relieved,  and  the  lights  scarcely  distinguisha- 
ble from  the  ground.  Some  whole  figures  are  considered  as 
shadows ;  all  the  lights  are  of  one  color.  It  is  in  the  shadows 
only  that  the  colors  vary.  In  general,  all  the  shadows  should  be 
of  one  color,  and  the  lights  only  to  be  distinguished  by  different 
tints  ;  at  least  it  should  be  so  when  the  back  ground  is  dark  in 
the  picture." 

From  Parma  Reynolds  went  to  Florence,  where  he  remained 
two  months,  observing  much,  but  committing  few  remarks  to 
writing;  and  from  thence  he  proceeded  to  Venice,  where  his  stay 
was  still  shorter.  This  is  the  more  remarkable,  since  the  Vene- 
tian school  influenced  his  professional  character  far  more  power- 
fully than  all  the  other  schools  of  art  put  together ;  and  his  silence 
concerning  the  excellences  of  the  famous  masters  of  Venice,  and 
his  short  abode  there,  have  occasioned  some  curious  speculations. 
It  has  been  observed  that  Reynolds  admired  one  style  and  painted 
another;  that  with  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo,  and  "  the  great 
masters"  and  "  the  grand  style"  on  his  lips,  he  dedicated  his  own 
pencil  to  works  of  a  character  into  which  little  of  the  lofty,  and 
nothing  of  the  divine,  could  well  be  introduced.  To  have  explain- 
ed by  what  means  and  by  what  studies  he  acquired  his  own  unri- 
valled skill  in  art,  would  have  been  more  to  the  purpose  than 
comments  upon  Correggio,  or  Raphael,  or  Michael  Angelo.  He 
has  chosen  to  remain  silent,  and  artists  must  seek  for  the  knowl- 


22 


LIFE. 


edge  which  made  the  fortune  of  Reynolds  elsewhere  than  in  his 
counsel. 

"  After  an  absence,"  says  Malone,  "  of  near  three  years,  he 
began  to  think  of  returning  home ;  and  a  slight  circumstance, 
which  he  used  to  mention,  may  serve  to  show  that,  however  great 
may  have  been  the  delight  which  he  derived  from  residence  in  a 
country  that  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo  had  embellished  by 
their  works,  the  prospect  of  revisiting  his  native  land  was  not 
unpleasing.  When  he  was  at  Venice,  in  compliment  to  the  English 
gentlemen  then  residing  there,  the  manager  of  the  Opera  one 
night  ordered  the  band  to  play  an  English  ballad  tune.  Happen- 
ing to  be  the  popular  air  which  was  played  or  sung  in  almost  every 
stand  just  at  the  time  of  their  leaving  London,  by  suggesting 
to  them  that  metropolis  with  all  its  endearing  circumstances,  it 
immediately  brought  tears  into  Reynold's  eyes,  as  well  as  into 
those  of  his  countrymen  who  were  present."  "  Thus  nature  will 
prevail,"  adds  Northcote,  "and  Paul  Veronese,  Tintoret,  and  even 
Titian,  were  all  given  up  at  the  moment,  from  the  delightful  pros- 
pect of  again  returning  to  his  native  land."  On  his  way  over 
Mount  Cenis,  he  met  Hudson  and  Roubiliac  hasting  on  to  Rome. 
At  Paris,  he  found  Chambers,  the  architect,  who  afterward  aided 
him  in  founding  the  Royal  Academy.  Here  he  painted  the  por- 
trait of  Mrs.  Chambers,  who  was  eminently  beautiful.  She  is 
represented  in  a  hat,  which  shades  part  of  her  face.  The  picture 
was  much  admired,  and  must  have  raised  high  expectations. 

He  arrived  in  England  in  October,  1752,  and  after  visiting 
Devonshire  for  a  few  weeks,  obeyed  the  solicitations  of  Lord 
Edgecumbe  and  his  own  wishes,  and  established  himself  as  a  pro- 
fessional man  in  St.  Martin's  Lane,  London.  He  found  such 
opposition  as  genius  is  commonly  doomed  to  meet  with,  and  does 
not  always  overcome.  The  boldness  of  his  attempts,  the  freedom 
of  his  conceptions,  and  the  brilliancy  of  his  coloring,  were  con- 
sidered as  innovations  upon  the  established  and  orthodox  system 
of  portrait  manufacture.  The  artists  raised  their  voices  first; 
and  of  these  Hudson,  who  had  just  returned  from  Rome,  was 
loudest.  His  old  master  looked  for  some  minutes  on  a  boy  in  a 
turban,  which  he  had  just  painted,  and  exclaimed,  with  the  addi- 


LIFE, 


23 


tion  of  the  national  oath — "Reynolds,  you  ^on't  paint  so  well  as 
when  you  left  England  !"  Ellis,  an  eminent  portrait  painter,  who 
had  studied  under  Kneller,  lifted  up  his  voice  the  next — "  Ah  ! 
Reynolds,  this  will  never  answer.  Why,  you  don't  paint  in  the 
least  like  Sir  Godfrey."  The  youthful  artist  defended  himself 
with  much  ability,  upon  which  the  other  exclaimed  in  astonish- 
ment at  this  new  heresy  in  art — "  Shakspearc  in  poetry — and 
Kneller  in  painting,  damme  !" — and  walked  out  of  the  room.  This 
sharp  treatment,  and  the  constant  quotation  of  the  names  of  Lely 
and  Kneller,  infected  the  mind  of  Reynolds  with  a  dislike  for  the 
works  of  these  two  popular  painters,  which  continued  to  the  close 
of  his  life. 

He  thus  describes  the  artists  with  whom  he  had  to  contend  in 
the  commencement  of  his  career.  "  They  have  got  a  set  of  pos- 
tures, which  they  apply  to  all  persons  indiscriminately  ;  the  con- 
sequence of  which  is,  that  all  their  pictures  look  like  so  many 
sign  post  paintings  ;  and  if  they  have  a  history  or  a  family  piece 
to  paint,  the  first  thing  they  do  is  to  look  over  their  common-place 
book,  containing  sketches  which  they  have  stolen  from  Various 
pictures  ;  then  they  search  their  prints  over  and  pilfer  one  figure 
from  one  print  and  another  from  a  second ;  but  never  take  the 
trouble  of  thinking  for  themselves."  From  the  reproach  of  deal- 
ing in  long-established  attitudes,  Reynolds  himself  is  by  no  means 
free;  but  he  never  copied  a  posture  which  he  failed  to  make  his 
own,  by  throwing  over  it  the  charm  of  a  graceful  fancy  and  the 
elegance  of  nature. 

The  co'ntest  with  his  fellow  artists  was  of  short  continuance. 
The  works  which  had  gained  him  celebrity  were  not  the  fortunate 
offspring  of  some  happy  moment,  but  of  one  who  could  pour  out 
such  pictures  in  profusion.  Better  ones  were  not  slow  in  coming. 
He  painted  the  second  Duke  of  Devonshire,  and  this  increased  his 
fame.  He  next  painted  his  patron,  Commodore  Keppel — and  pro 
duced  a  work  of  such  truth  and  nobleness,  that  it  fixed  uni- 
versal attention.  This  gallant  seaman,  in  pursuing  a  privateer, 
ran  his  ship  aground  on  the  coast  of  France,  and  was  made  priso- 
ner in  the  midst  of  his  exertions  to  save  his  crew  from  destruction. 
He  was  released  from  prison,  and  acquitted  of  all  blame  by  a 


24 


LIFE. 


court-martial.  The  portrait  represents  him  just  escaped  from 
shipwreck.  The  artist  deviated  from  the  formal  style  of  his  rivals, 
and  deviated  into  excellence.  The  spirit  of  a  higher  species  of 
art  is  visible  in  this  performance,  yet  the  likeness  was  reckoned 
perfect. 

But  so  unsettled  is  fashion,  so  fluctuating  is  taste,  so  uncertain 
is  a  man  of  genius  of  obtaining  the  reward  he  deserves,  and  so 
little  can  he  depend  upon  the  immediate  triumph  of  intellect  over 
pretension,  that  the  popularity  of  any  contemptible  competitor 
annoys  and  disturbs  him.  So  it  happened  to  Reynolds.  One  Lio- 
tard,  a  native  of  Geneva,  of  little  skill  and  of  no  genius,  but  pa- 
tronised by  several  noblemen,  rose  suddenly  into  distinction  and 
employment  Of  this,  Reynolds  spoke  and  wrote  with  much  im- 
patience and  some  bitterness.  "  The  only  merit  in  Liotard's 
pictures,"  he  says,  "is  neatness,  which,  as  a  general  rule,  is  the 
characteristic  of  low  genius,  or  rather  no  genius  at  all.  His  pic- 
tures are  just  what  ladies  do  when  they  paint  for  their  amusement ; 
nor  is  there  any  person,  how  poor  soever  their  talents  may  be,  but 
in  a  very  few  years,  by  dint  of  practice,  may  possess  themselves 
of  every  qualification  in  the  art  which  this  great  man  has  got." 
This  is  sufficiently  severe — it  is,  however,  just.  The  portraits  of 
his  rival  were  fac  similes  of  life — they  had  no  vigor,  no  elegance, 
no  intellect — they  were  minute  without  grace,  and  labored  without 
beauty.  The  friends  of  Liotard,  finding  that  no  honor  was  reflect- 
ed back  upon  them  by  their  patronage,  withdrew  their  protection ; 
his  name  sunk  into  silence,  and  he  returned  to  the  Continent, 
leaving  an  open  field  and  the  honor  of  the  victory  to  Reynolds — 
the  first  time  that  a  British  painter  had  triumphed  in  such  a  con- 
test. He  now  removed  from  Saint  Martin's  Lane,  the  Grub  street 
of  artists,  and  took  a  handsome  house  on  the  north  side  of  Great 
Newport  street.  His  portrait  of  Keppel,  and  his  picture  of  the 
two  Grevilles,  brother  and  sister,  as  Cupid  and  Psyche — and  his 
success  in  the  contest  for  distinction  with  Liotard,  brought  busi- 
ness in  abundance,  and  his  apartments  were  filled  with  ladies  of 
quality  and  with  men  of  rank,  all  alike  desirous  to  have  their  per- 
sons preserved  to  posterity  by  one  who  touched  no  subject  without 
adorning  it.    "  The  desire  to  perpetuate  the  form  of  self-compla- 


LIFE. 


25 


cency,"  says  Northcote,  "crowded  the  sitting  room  of  Reynolds 
with  women  who  wished  to  be  transmitted  as  angels,  and  with 
men  who  wished  to  appear  as  heroes  and  philosophers.  From  his 
pencil  they  were  sure  to  be  gratified.  The  force  and  felicity  of 
his  portraits  not  only  drew  around  him  the  opulence  and  beauty 
of  the  nation,  but  happily  gained  him  the  merited  honor  of  per- 
petuating the  features  of  all  the  eminent  and  distinguished  men 
of  learning  then  living."  It  is  not  a  little  amusing  to  read  Rey- 
nold's lofty  commendations  of  Raphael  and  Angelo — to  observe 
how  warmly  he  poured  out  his  admiration  over  the  severe  dignity 
of  their  productions,  and  how  enthusiastically  he  labored  to  estab- 
lish the  serene  majesty  of  the  "grand  style"  in  opposition  to  all 
other  works ;  and  then  to  look  at  him  in  his  own  person — com- 
mencing the  regular  manufacture  of  faces  as  soon  as  he  has  leisure 
to  establish  himself.  I  sincerely  believe,  however,  that  in  devoting 
his  pencil  to  portraits,  he  not  only  took  the  way  to  fortune,  but 
followed  the  scope  of  his  nature.  Ho  was  deficient  in  the  lofty 
apprehension  of  a  subject ;  had  little  power  in  picturing  out 
vividly  scenes  from  history  or  from  poetry ;  and  through  this 
capital  deficiency  of  imagination  was  compelled  to  place  in  reality 
before  him  what  others  could  bring  by  the  force  of  fancy. 

He  was  now  thirty  years  old,  his  fame  was  spread  far  and 
wide,  and  the  number  of  his  commissions  augmented  daily.  In 
the  force  and  grace  of  expression,  and  in  the  natural  splendor  of 
coloring,  no  one  could  rival  him ;  success  begot  confidence  in  his 
own  powers ;  he  tried  bolder  attitudes  and  more  diversified  char- 
acter, and  succeeded  in  every  attempt.  A  close  observer  of  nature, 
he  laid  hold  of  every  happy  attitude  into  which  either  negligence 
or  study  threw  the  human  frame.  On  one  occasion,  he  observed 
that  a  noble  person,  one  of  his  sitters,  instead  of  looking  the  way 
the  painter  wished,  kept  gazing  at  a  beautiful  picture  by  one  of 
the  old  masters.  The  artist  instantly  pressed  this  circumstance 
into  service.  "  I  snatched  the  moment,"  he  observes,  "  and  drew 
him  in  profile  with  as  much  of  that  expression  of  a  pleasing  mel- 
ancholy as  my  capacity  enabled  me  to  hit  off.  When  the  picture 
was  finished,  he  liked  it,  and  particularly  for  that  expression, 
though,  I  believe,  without  reflecting  on  the  occasion  of  it." 
3 


26 


LIFE. 


Some  time  in  the  year  1754,  he  acquired  the  acquaintance,  and 
afterward  the  friendship,  of  Samuel  Johnson.  How  this  happen- 
ed, is  related  by  Boswell.  The  artist  was  visiting  in  Devonshire, 
and  in  an  interval  of  conversation  or  study  opened  the  Life  of 
Savage.  While  he  was  standing  with  his  arm  leaning  against  the 
chimney-piece,  he  began  to  read,  and  it  seized  his  attention  so 
strongly,  that,  not  being  able  to  lay  down  the  book  till  he  had 
finished  it,  when  he  attempted  to  move  he  found  .his  arm  totally 
benumbed.  He  was  solicitous  to  know  an  author,  one  of  whose 
books  had  thus  enchanted  him,  and  by  accident  or  design  he  met 
him  at  the  Miss  Cotterals  In  Newport  street.  It  was  Reynold's 
good  fortune  also  to  make  a  remark  which  Johnson  perceived 
could  only  have  arisen  in  the  mind  of  a  man  who  thought  for 
himself.  The  ladies  were  regretting  the  death  of  a  friend,  to 
whom  they  owed  great  obligations;  "You  have,  however,  the 
comfort,"  said  Reynolds,  "  of  being  relieved  from  the  burden  of 
gratitude."  They  were  shocked  at  this  selfish  suggestion ;  but 
Johnson  maintained  that  it  was  true  to  human  nature,  and  on 
going  away,  accompanied  Reynolds  home.  Thus  commenced  a 
friendship  which  was  continued  to  old  age  without  much  inter- 
ruption. 

The  rough  and  saturnine  Johnson  was  very  unlike  the  soft, 
the  graceful,  and  flexible  Reynolds.  The  former,  the  most  dis- 
tinguished man  of  his  time  for  wit,  wisdom,  various  knowledge, 
and  original  vigor  of  genius,  had  lived  neglected — nay,  spurned 
by  the  opulent  and  the  titled — till  his  universal  fame  forced  him 
on  them ;  and  when,  after  life  was  half-spent  in  toil  and  sorrow, 
he  came  forth  at  length  from  his  obscurity,  he  spread  consterna- 
tion among  the  polished  circles  by  his  uncouth  shape  and  gestures, 
more  by  his  ready  and  vigorous  wit,  and  an  incomparable  sharp- 
ness of  sarcasm,  made  doubly  keen  and  piercing  by  learning. 
His  circumstances  rendered  it  unnecessary  to  soothe  the  proud  by 
assentation,  or  the  beautiful  by  fine  speeches.  He  appeared 
among  men  not  to  win  his  way  leisurely  to  the  first  place  by  smiles 
and  bows ;  but  to  claim  it,  take  it,  and  keep  it,  as  the  distinction 
to  which  he  was  born,  and  of  which  he  had  been  too  long  defraud- 
ed.   The  course  which  his  art  required  Reynolds  to  pursue  was 


LIFE. 


27 


far  different  from  this.  The  temper  of  Hogarth  had  injured  his 
practice  in  portraiture ;  the  lesson  had  been  recently  read,  and 
the  prudent  and  sagacious  Reynolds  resolved  not  to  drive  fortune 
from  his  door  by  austerity  of  manners  and  surly  and  intractable 
independence  of  spirit.  He  who  would  succeed  as  a  portrait 
painter,  must  practise  the  patience  and  the  courtesy  of  a  fine  lady's 
physician.  It  is  not  enough  to  put  the  sitter  into  a  suitable  pos- 
ture ;  he  must  also  by  conversation  move  him  into  a  suitable  mood 
of  mind,  and  that  natural  and  unembarrassed  ease  of  expression 
without  which  there  can  be  no  success.  He  has,  moreover,  to 
keep  him  thus,  throughout  the  whole  of  a  tedious  operation.  No 
one  will  suppose  that  the  difficulties  are  less  with  patients  of  the 
softer  sex.  To  the  vain  and  the  whimsical,  Reynolds  opposed 
constant  courtesy,  and  soothed  them  by  that  professional  flattery 
to  which  they  are  generally  accessible.  Disappointment  and 
unmerited  neglect  had  for  ever  roughened  Johnson ;  his  trade,  pol- 
ished Reynolds.  The  flattery  which  the  latter  pi-actised  with  his 
pencil  helped  to  smooth  his  tongue,  and  I  am  surprised  that  North- 
cote,  a  man  shrewd  and  observing,  should  have  been  unconscious 
of  this,  when  he  accuses  the  former  of  pride,  envy  and  vulgarity, 
and  compares  the  discourtesy  of  his  inquiring,  in  the  presence  of 
the  Duchess  of  Argyle,  "  How  much,  Reynolds,  do  you  think  wo 
could  win  in  a  week,  if  we  were  to  work  as  hard  as  we  could  ?" 
with  the  graceful  and  accommodating  manners  of  his  old  master. 
Reynolds,  however — whether  from  that  kind  of  feeling  which 
induces  one  man  to  admire  another  for  what  he  wants  himself,  or 
from  a  desire  of  profiting  by  the  wisdom  and  the  wit,  the  con- 
versational eloquence  and  opulent  understanding  of  Johnson — 
cultivated  the  friendship  of  the  great  author  assiduously  and  suc- 
cessfully ;  and  of  the  fruit  which  he  derived  from  the  intercourse 
he  thus  speaks  in  one  of  his  discourses  on  art : 

"  Whatever  merit  these  Discourses  may  have,  must  be  imputed 
in  a  great  measure  to  the  education  which  I  may  be  said  to  have 
had  under  Dr.  Johnson.  I  do  not  mean  to  say,  though  it  certain- 
ly would  be  to  the  credit  of  these  Discourses,  if  I  could  say  it 
with  truth,  that  he  contributed  even  a  single  sentiment  to  them ; 
but  he  qualified  my  mind  to  think  justly.    No  man  had,  like  him, 


28 


LIFE. 


the  art  of  teaching  inferior  minds  the  art  of  thinking.  Perhaps 
other  men  might  have  equal  knowledge,  but  few  were  so  commu- 
nicative. His  great  pleasure  was  to  talk  to  those  who  looked  up  to 
him.  It  was  here  he  exhibited  his  wonderful  powers.  The  observ- 
ations which  he  made  on  poetry,  on  life,  and  on  every  thing  about 
us,  I  applied  to  our  art — with  what  success,  others  must  judge." 

The  price  which  Reynolds  at  first  received  for  a  head  was  five 
guineas ;  the  rate  increased  with  his  fame,  and  in  the  year  1755, 
his  charge  was  twelve.  Experience  about  this  time  dictated  the 
following  memorandum  respecting  his  art:  "For  painting  the 
flesh — black,  blue-black,  white,  lake,  carmine,  orpiment,  yellow- 
ochre,  ultramarine  and  varnish.  To  lay  the  pallet — first  lay, 
carmine  and  white  in  different  degrees ;  second  lay,  orpiment  and 
white  ditto ;  third  lay,  blue-black  and  white  ditto.  The  first 
sitting,  for  expedition,  make  a  mixture  as  like  the  sitter's  com- 
plexion as  you  can."  Some  years  afterward  I  find,  by  a  casual 
notice  from  Johnson,  that  Reynolds  had  raised  his  price  for  a 
head  to  twenty  guineas. 

The  year  175B  was  perhaps  the  most  lucrative  of  his  profession- 
al career.  The  account  of  the  economy  of  his  studies,  and  the  dis- 
tribution of  his  time  at  this  period,  is  curious  and  instructive. 
It  was  his  practice  to  keep  all  the  prints  engraved  from  his  portraits, 
together  with  his  sketches,  in  a  large  portfolio  ;  these  he  submitted 
to  his  sitters  ;  and  whatever  position  they  selected,  he  immediately 
proceeded  to  copy  it  upon  his  canvass,  and  paint  the  likeness  to  cor- 
respond. He  received  six  sitters  daily,  who  appeared  in  their 
turns  ;  and  he  kept  regular  lists  of  those  who  sat,  and  of  those  who 
were  waiting  until  a  finished  portrait  should  open  a  vacancy  for 
their  admission.  He  painted  them  as  they  stood  on  his  list,  and 
often  sent  the  work  home  before  the  colors  were  dry.  Of  lounging 
visitors  he  had  a  great  abhorrence,  and,  as  he  reckoned  up  the 
fruits  of  his  labors,  "  Those  idle  people,"  said  this  disciple  of  the 
grand  historical  school  of  Raphael  and  Angelo,  "  those  idle  people 
do  not  consider  that  my  time  is  worth  five  guineas  an  hour." 
This  calculation  incidentally  informs  us,  that  it  was  Reynold's 
practice,  in  the  height  of  his  reputation  and  success  to  paint  a 
portrait  in  four  hours. 


LIFE. 


29 


His  acquaintance  with  Johnson  induced  him  about  this  time  to 
write  for  the  Idler  some  papers,  on  exact  imitations  of  nature  and 
the  true  conception  of  beauty.  These  essays  are  not  remarkable 
either  for  vigor  or  for  elegance ;  they  set  nothing  old  in  a  new 
light.  He  claims  for  painting  the  privilege  of  poetry — in  select- 
ing fit  subjects  for  the  pencil,  in  imitating  what  is  pure  and  lofty, 
and  avoiding  the  mechanical  drudgery  of  copying  with  a  servile 
accuracy  all  that  nature  presents.  He  asserts  that  poetry  is  the 
sister  of  painting ;  that  both  exercise  authority  over  the  realms 
of  imagination ;  and  that  the  latter  alone  adds  intellectual  energy 
to  the  productions  of  fancy.  Concerning  our  conceptions  of  the 
beautiful,  he  says  that  the  productions  of  nature  are  all  of  them- 
selves beautiful ;  and  that  custom,  rather  than  the  surpassing 
loveliness  of  particular  objects,  directs  our  admiration.  He  ex- 
pended much  thought  in  the  composition  of  these  papers,  and  as 
they  were  required  by  Johnson  to  meet  some  sudden  emergency, 
he  sat  up  all  night,  which  occasioned  a  sharp  illness  that  detained 
him  awhile  from  his  pencil.  In  these  essays,  he  urges  his  favorite 
theory  of  contemplating  and  practising  the  more  grave  and  serene- 
ly poetical  style  of  painting,  and  his  love  of  the  religious  pro- 
ductions of  the  great  apostles  of  Romish  art  is  visible  in  every 
page.  His  remarks  are  deficient  in  that  original  spirit  which 
distinguishes  the  ruder  memorandums  of  Hogarth  ;  and  what  is 
odd  enough,  he  seems  to  comprehend  less  clearly  than  the  other 
the  scope  and  character  of  the  works  of  the  great  foreign  masters, 
though  he  had  lived  long  in  the  daily  contemplation  of  their 
productions. 

Notwithstanding  his  professional  diligence,  and  the  time  which 
he  was  compelled  to  yield  to  the  attachment  of  friends  and  the 
curiosity  of  strangers,  he  found  leisure  to  note  down  many  useful 
remarks  concerning  his  art,  some  of  which  seem  colored  by  the 
imagination  or  moulded  by  the  sagacity"  of  Johnson.  "  The 
world,"  he  says,  "  was  weary  of  the  long  train  of  insipid  imita- 
tors of  Claude  and  Poussin,  and  demanded  something  new  ;  Sal- 
vator  Rosa  saw  and  supplied  this  deficiency.  He  struck  into  a 
new  and  savage  sort  of  composition,  which  was  very  striking. 
Sannazarius,  the  Italian  poet,  for  the  same  reason,  substituted 
3* 


30 


LIFE. 


fishermen  for  shepherds,  and  changed  the  scene  to  the  sea.  Want 
of  simplicity  is  a  material  imperfection  either  in  conception  or  in 
coloring.  There  is  a  pure,  chaste,  modest,  as  well  as  a  bold,  in- 
dependent, glaring  color ;  men  of  genius  use  the  one,  common 
minds  the  other.  Some  painters  think  they  never  can  enrich  their 
pictures  enough,  and  delight  in  gaudy  colors  and  startling  con- 
trasts. All  hurry  and  confusion  in  the  composition  of  the  picture 
should  be  avoided;  it  deprives  the  work  of  the  majesty  of  repose. 
When  I  think  on  the  high  principle  of  the  art,  it  brings  to  my 
mind  the  works  of  L.  Carracci,  and  the  Transfiguration  of  Ra- 
phael. There  every  figure  is  ardent  and  animated,  yet  all  is  dig- 
nified. A  solemnity  pervades  the  whole  picture,  which  strikes 
every  one  with  awe  and  reverence."  No  artist  ever  had  a  finer 
sense  of  excellence — could  distinguish  more  accurately  between 
various  degrees  of  merit  in  all  the  great  productions  of  the  pencil, 
or  lay  down  happier  rules  for  composition.  He  probably  never 
lived  a  day  without  thinking  of  Raphael  or  Correggio ;  he  cer- 
tainly never  wrote  a  professional  memorandum  without  introducing 
their  works  or  their  names :  a  circumstance  which  blunts  the 
sting  of  those  lines  in  Retaliation — 

"  "When  you  talked  of  your  Raphaels,  Correggios,  and  stuff, 
He  shifted  his  trumpet,  and  only  took  snuff." 

The  influence  of  an  artist  of  commanding  skill  now  began  to 
be  manifest.  Those  who  admired  the  moral  scenes  of  the  shrewd 
and  sarcastic  Hogarth,  were  no  less  delighted  with  the  works  of 
one  who  had  all  the  grace  and  beauty  which  long  acquaintance 
with  foreign  pictures  had  taught  them  to  admire.  It  was  pleasing 
to  national  pride  to  see  an  Englishman  measure  himself  success- 
fully with  Lely  or  Vandyke ;  and  personal  vanity  was  hourly 
pampered  by  his  hand.  Commissions  continued  to  pour  in — the 
artist  engaged  several  subordinate  laborers,  who  were  skilful  in 
draperies — raised  his  price  in  1760  to  twenty-five  guineas,  and 
began  to  lay  the  foundation  of  a  fortune. 

It  has  been  said  that  Hogarth  observed  the  rising  fame  of 
Reynolds  with  vexation  and  with  envy ;  but  of  this  I  have  ob- 
served no  proofs,  either  in  his  works  or  in  his  memorandums  ;  and 
as  he  was  not  given  to  dissembling,  but  a  bold,  blunt  man,  it 


LIFE. 


31 


seems  likely  that  he  would  have  taken  some  opportunity  of  ex- 
pressing such  feelings,  if  they  had  really  existed.  The  cold  and 
cautious  nature  of  Reynolds  rendered  him,  in  the  opinion  of 
Johnson,  almost  invulnerable ;  but  I  think  Hogarth  "would  have 
found  a  way  to  plague  even  him,  had  he  been  so  disposed. 
For  the  envy  of  Hogarth  we  have  the  authority  of  Nichols,  who 
lived  near  those  times ;  but  his  assertion  is  to  be  received  with 
caution,  if  not  with  distrust ;  he  was  no  admirer  of  the  man 
whose  character  he  undertook  to  delineate,  and  in  the  same  book, 
where  he  depreciated  the  dead,  he  deified  the  living.  Hogarth 
may  have  laid  himself  open  to  such  a  suspicion  by  the  manner  in 
which  he  opposed  the  foundation  of  public  lectures  and  the  estab- 
lishment of  an  academy. 

In  the  year  17G0  a  scheme,  long  contemplated  and  often  agi- 
tated, was  carried  into  execution — the  establishment  of  an  exhi- 
bition of  the  works  of  British  artists.  Concerning  this  under- 
taking, Johnson  thus  writes  to  Baretti.  "  The  artists  have 
established  a  yearly  exhibition  of  pictures  and  statues,  in  imita- 
tion, I  am  told,  of  foreign  academies.  This  year  was  the  second 
exhibition.  They  please  themselves  much  with  the  multitude  of 
spectators,  and  imagine  that  the  English  school  will  rise  much  in 
reputation.  Reynolds  is  without  a  rival,  and  continues  to  add 
thousands  to  thousands,  which  he  deserves,  among  other  excel- 
lences, by  retaining  his  kindness  for  Baretti.  This  exhibition  has 
filled  the  heads  of  the  artists  and  lovers  of  art.  Surely  life,  if  it 
be  not  long,  is  tedious ;  since  we  are  forced  to  call  in  the  assist- 
ance of  so  many  trifles  to  rid  us  of  our  time — of  that  time  which 
never  can  return." 

One  of  the  biographers  of  Reynolds  imputes  the  reflections 
contained  in  the  conclusion  of  this  letter,  "  to  that  kind  of  envy, 
which  perhaps  even  Johnson  felt,  when  comparing  his  own  annual 
gains  with  those  of  his  more  fortunate  friends."  They  are  rather 
to  be  attributed  to  the  sense  and  taste  of  Johnson,  who  could  not 
but  feel  the  utter  worthlcssncss  of  the  far  greater  part  of  the 
productions  with  which  the  walls  of  the  exhibition  room  were 
covered.  Artists  arc  very  willing  to  claim  for  their  profession 
and  its  productions  rather  more  than  the  world  seems  disposed  to 


32 


LIFE. 


concede.  It  is  very  natural  that  this  should  be  so  ;  but  it  is  also 
natural  that  a  man  of  Johnson's  cast  should  be  conscious  of  the 
dignity  of  his  own  pursuits,  and  agree  with  the  vast  majority  of 
mankind  in  ranking  a  Homer,  a  Virgil,  a  Milton,  or  a  Shakspeare, 
immeasurably  above  all  the  artists  that  ever  painted  or  carved. 
J ohnson,  in  a  conversation  with  Boswell,  defined  painting  to  be  an 
art  "  which  could  illustrate,  but  could  not  inform." 

The  catalogue  to  this  new  exhibition  was,  however,  graced 
with  an  introduction  from  the  pen  of  the  doctor — which  contains 
the  following  passage:  "An  exhibition  of  the  works  of  art,  being 
a  spectacle  new  in  the  kingdom,  has  raised  various  opinions  and 
conjectures  among  those  who  are  unacquainted  with  the  practice 
of  foreign  nations.  Those  who  set  their  performances  to  general 
view  have  too  often  been  considered  the  rivals  of  each  other ;  as 
men  actuated,  if  not  by  avarice,  at  least  by  vanity,  as  contending 
for  superiority  of  fame,  though  not  for  a  pecuniary  prize.  It  can 
not  be  denied  or  doubted  that  all  who  offer  themselves  to  criticism 
are  desirous  of  praise  ;  this  desire  is  not  only  innocent  but  vir- 
tuous, while  it  is  undebased  by  artifice  or  unpolluted  by  envy ; 
and  of  envy  or  artifice,  those  men  can  never  be  accused,  who, 
already  enjoying  all  the  honors  and  profits  of  their  profession,  are 
content  to  stand  candidates  for  public  notice  with  genius  yet  unex- 
perienced and  diligence  yet  unrewarded ;  who,  without  any  hope 
of  increasing  their  own  reputation  or  interest,  expose  their  names 
and  their  works  only  that  they  may  furnish  an  opportunity  of  ap- 
pearance to  the  young,  the  diffident,  and  the  neglected.  The  pur- 
pose of  this  exhibition  is  not  to  enrich  the  artist,  but  to  advance 
the  art ;  the  eminent  are  not  flattered  with  preference,  nor  the 
obscure  insulted  with  contempt ;  whoever  hopes  to  deserve  public 
favor  is  here  invited  to  display  his  merit." 

This  is  very  specious  and  splendid ;  but  the  men  of  fortune 
and  reputation  who  planned  and  directed  this  work,  were  more 
likely  to  seek  stations  of  importance  for  their  own  paintings,  than 
to  be  solicitous  about  obtaining  such  for  the  labors  of  the  nameless. 
Positions  of  precedence  were  likely  to  be  eagerly  contended  for 
among  the  contributing  artists ;  and  it  is  probable  that  Johnson 
did  not  pen  these  conciliatory  paragraphs  without  a  secret  smile. 


LIFE. 


33 


In  the  year  17G1,  the  accumulating  thousands  which  Johnson 
speaks  of,  began  to  have  a  visible  effect  on  Reynold's  establish- 
ment. He  quitted  Newport  street,  purchased  a  fine  house  on  the 
west  side  of  Leicester  Square,  furnished  it  with  much  taste,  added 
a  splendid  gallery  for  the  exhibition  of  his  works,  and  an  elegant 
dining  room  ;  and  finally  taxed  his  invention  and  his  purse  in  the 
production  of  a  carriage,  with  wheels  carved  and  gilt,  and  bearing 
on  its  panels  the  four  seasons  of  the  year.  Those  who  flocked  to 
see  his  new  gallery  were  sometimes  curious  enough  to  desire  a 
sight  of  this  gay  carriage,  and  the  coachman,  imitating  the  lackey 
who  showed  the  gallery,  earned  a  little  money  by  opening  the 
eoach  house  doors.  His  sister  complained  that  it  was  too  showy. 
"What!"  said  the  painter,  "would  you  have  one  like  an  apothe- 
cary's carriage?" 

By  what  course  of  study  he  attained  his  skill  in  art,  Reynolds 
has  not  condescended  to  tell  us ;  but  of  many  minor  matters  we 
are  informed  by  one  of  his  pupils  with  all  the  scrupulosity  of 
biography.  His  study  was  octagonal,  some  twenty  feet  long,  six- 
teen broad,  and  about  fifteen  feet  high.  The  window  was  small 
and  square,  and  the  sill  nine  feet  from  the  floor.  His  sitter's 
chair  moved  on  castors,  and  stood  above  the  floor  a  foot  and  a 
half ;  he  held  his  palettes  by  a  handle,  and  the  sticks  of  his 
brushes  were  eighteen  inches  long.  He  wrought  standing,  and 
with  great  celerity.  He  rose  early,  breakfasted  at  nine,  entered 
his  study  at  ten,  examined  designs  or  touched  unfinished  portraits 
till  eleven  brought  a  sitter ;  painted  till  four ;  then  dressed,  and 
gave  the  evening  to  company . 

His  table  was  now  elegantly  furnished,  and  round  it  men  of 
genius  were  often  found.  He  was  a  lover  of  poetry  and  poets ; 
they  sometimes  read  their  productions  at  his  house,  and  were  re- 
warded by  his  approbation,  and  occasionally  by  their  portraits. 
Johnson  was  a  frequent  and  a  welcome  guest ;  though  the  sage 
was  not  seldom  sarcastic  and  overbearing,  he  was  endured  and 
caressed,  because  he  poured  out  the  riches  of  his  conversation 
more  lavishly  than  Reynolds  did  his  wines.  Percy  was  there  too 
with  his  ancient  ballads  and  his  old  English  lore ;  and  Goldsmith 
with  his  latent  genius,  infantine  vivacity,  and  plum-colored  coat. 


34 


LIFE. 


Burke  and  his  brothers  were  constant  guests,  and  Garrick  was 
seldom  absent,  for  he  loved  to  be  where  greater  men  were.  It  was 
honorable  to  this  distinguished  artist  that  he  perceived  the  worth 
of  such  men,  and  felt  the  honor  which  their  society  shed  upon 
him ;  but  it  stopped  not  here — he  often  aided  them  with  his  purse, 
nor  insisted  upon  repayment.  It  has,  indeed,  been  said  that  he 
was  uncivil  to  Johnson,  and  that  once  on  seeing  him  in  his  study, 
he  turned  his  back  on  him  and  walked  out ;  but  to  offer  such  an 
insult  was  as  little  in  the  nature  of  the  courtly  painter,  as  to  for- 
give it  was  in  that  of  the  haughty  author.  Reynolds  seems  to 
have  loved  the  company  of  literary  men  more  than  that  of  artists  ; 
he  had  little  to  learn  in  his  profession,  and  he  naturally  sought  the 
society  of  those  who  had  knowledge  to  impart.  They  have  rewar- 
ded him  with  their  approbation ;  he  who  has  been  praised  by 
Burke,  and  who  was  loved  by  Johnson,  has  little  chance  of  being 
forgotten. 

He  obtained  the  more  equivocal  approbation  of  Sterne,  of  whom 
he  painted  a  very  clever  portrait,  with  the  finger  on  the  brow  and 
the  head  full  of  thought.  The  author  of  Tristram  Shandy,  speak- 
ing of  his  hero's  father,  says,  "  Then  his  whole  attitude  had  been 
easy,  natural,  unforced,  Reynolds  himself,  great  and  graceful  as 
he  paints,  might  have  painted  him  as  he  sat.  "  The  death  of 
Sterne  is  said  to  have  been  hastened  by  the  sarcastic  raillery  of  a 
lady  whom  he  encountered  at  the  painter's  table.  He  offended 
her  by  the  grossness  of  his  conversation,  and  being  in  a  declining 
state  of  health,  suffered,  if  we  are  to  believe  the  story,  so  severe- 
ly from  her  wit — that  he  went  home  and  died.  That  man  must  be 
singularly  sensitive  whose  life  is  at  the  mercy  of  a  woman's 
sarcasm ;  the  most  of  us  are  content  to  live  long  after  we  are 
laughed  at* 

Eeynolds'  next  work,  Garrick  between  Tragedy  and  Comedy, 
has  been  highly  praised.  Figures  of  flesh  and  blood,  however, 
never  work  well  with  figures  of  speech.    Shadow  and  substance 

*  To  poor  Sterne  there  is  an  inglorious  memorial  among  the  nettles  of  Bays- 
water  burial  ground — a  wretched  headstone,  inscribed  with  the  more  wretched 
rhymes  of  a  tippling  fraternity  of  Freemasons.  The<  worst  is  not  yet  told;  his 
bod/  was  sold  by  his  landlady  to  defray  his  lodgings,  and  was  recognized  on  the 
dissecting  table  by  one  who  had  caroused  with  him,  and  enjoyed  his  witty  and 
licentious  conversation. 


LIFE. 


85 


can  not  enter  into  any  conversation  ;  the  player  standing  irreso- 
lute between  two  such  personations  is  an  absurdity  which  the  finest 
art — and  it  is  not  wanting — can  not  redeem.  The  soldier  ponder- 
ing between  his  Catholic  and  Protestant  doxies,  in  Hogarth's 
March  to  Finchley,  is  natural  and  irresistibly  comic  ;  but  David 
Garrick  between  his  shadowy  heroines  is  another  affair. 

Reynolds  meditated  a  larger  and  more  elaborate  work — a  com- 
position displaying  Garrick  in  his  various  powers  as  a  comic  and 
tragic  actor.  The  principal  figure  was  designed  to  be  David  him- 
self, in  his  own  proper  dress,  speaking  a  prologue.  A  little  re- 
tired were  to  appear  groups  of  figures  in  the  costume  and  charac- 
ter of  the  various  heroes,  from  Hamlet  down  to  Abel  Drugger,  in 
the  representation  of  which  the  actor  had  obtained  his  fame.  All 
these  were  to  be  portraits,  gently  modified  according  to  character. 
This  idea  was  never  probably  sketched ;  it  seems  strange  and 
unnatural ;  there  could  be  no  unity,  as  they  were  all  individual 
personations,  which  fitted  each  other  in  the  ludicrous  manner  of 
the  scraps  composing  a  medley.  Garrick,  however,  who  labored 
under  a  double  load  of  vanity  as  actor  and  author,  was  charmed 
with  the  idea,  and  cried  out,  "That will  be  the  very  thing  whieh 

I  desire ;  the  only  way,  ,  that  I  can  be  handed  down  to 

posterity." 

While  this  eminent  actor's  portrait  was  in  progress,  he  men- 
tioned to  Reynolds  that  he  once  sat  to  Gainsborough,  whose  tal- 
ents he  did  not  admire,  and  whom  he  puzzled  by  altering  the 
expression  of  his  face.  Every  time  the  artist  turned  his  back  the 
actor  put  on  a  change  of  countenance,  till  the  former  in  a  passion 
dashed  his  pencils  on  the  floor,  and  cried,  "I  believe  I  am  paint- 
ing from  the  devil  rather  than  from  a  man."  He  sat  often  to 
Reynolds  for  different  portraits ;  and  on  one  of  these  occasions 
complained  wofully  of  the  unceasing  sarcasms  of  Foote.  "Never 
mind  him,"  replied  the  shrewd  painter,  "he  only  shows  his  sense 
of  his  own  inferiority ;  it  is  ever  the  least  in  talent  who  becomes 
malignant  and  abusive." 

In  the  year  17C2,  the  health  of  Reynolds  having  been  impaired 
by  constant  labor,  he  went  into  Devonshire,  accompanied  by  John- 
son.   He  was  welcomed  with  something  of  a  silent  approbation  j 


36 


LIFE. 


for  the  populace  of  England  know  little,  and  care  less,  about 
either  painting,  or  poetry,  or  any  such  matters.  The  applause 
too  of  a  man's  native  place  is  generally  the  last  which  he  receives ; 
for  those  who  knew  him  in  youth  will  not  readily  allow  that  in 
capacity  he  is  superior  to  themselves,  and  are  apt  to  regard  the 
coming  of  his  fame  among  them  as  an  intrusion  to  be  resented. 
But  Reynolds  was  a  man  armed  in  that  philosophic  calmness 
which  no  disappointment  could  ruffle  or  disturb.  He  received  a 
kind  welcome  from  the  learned  and  scientific  Mudges,  and  was 
distinguished  by  the  notice  of  all  men  remarkable  for  knowledge 
or  station.  A  homage  was  paid  him  by  one  then  young  and 
nameless,  who  has  since  risen  high.  "Mr.  Reynolds  was  pointed 
out  to  me,"  says  Northcote,  "at  a  public  meeting,  where  a  great 
crowd  was  assembled.  I  got  as  near  him  as  I  could,  from  the 
pressure  of  the  people,  to  touch  the  skirt  of  his  coat,  which  I  did 
with  great  satisfaction  to  my  mind."  All  who  have  souls  to  feel  the 
influence  of  genius  will  applaud  this  touch  of  youthful  enthusiasm. 

A  gentleman  whom  they  visited  indulged  Johnson  with  new 
honey  and  clouted  cream,  of  which  he  swallowed  so  liberally  that 
his  entertainer  grew  alarmed.  To  the  prudent  and  discreet  Rey- 
nolds the  same  person  presented  a  large  jar  of  very  old  nut  oil — a 
professional  prize  which  the  painter  carried  home  in  his  own 
coach,  regarding  it  as  worthy  of  his  personal  attention.  He  re- 
turned to  London  restored  to  health,  and  recommenced  his  inter- 
rupted labors. 

His  commissions  were  now  so  numerous  and  important,  that  he 
found  it  necessary  to  have  several  young  persons  to  aid  him  in 
the  minor  details  of  his  undertakings.  It  is  seldom,  however, 
that  pupils  work  sedulously  for  their  master's  benefit ;  and  it  is 
not  to  every  one  who  cries,  "  Go  to — I  will  be  an  artist,"  that 
nature  has  been  prodigal.  One  pupil  took  to  drinking,  and  died 
soon ;  others  in  various  ways  annoyed  and  disappointed  him.  He 
was,  however,  a  clear-headed  man  and  a  zealous  instructor,  and 
seems  on  the  whole  to  have  turned  the  skill  of  his  young  men 
to  some  account.  He  informed  Johnson  that  he  was  obtaining  by 
his  profession  six  thousand  pounds  a  year — a  large  income  in 
those  days,  when  portraits  brought  but  twenty-five  guineas  each. 


LIFE.  37 

The  Literary  Club  was  founded  by  Johnson  in  17G4,  and, 
among  other  men  of  eminence  and  talent,  it  numbered  Reynolds. 
It  is  true  that  he  assumed  not  to  himself  the  distinction  which 
literature  bestows,  but  his  friends  knew  too  well  the  value  of  his 
presence  to  lose  it  by  a  fastidious  observance  of  the  title  of  their 
club.  Poets,  painters,  and  sculptors  are  all  brothers ;  and  even 
had  he  been  less  eminent  in  his  art,  the  sense,  information,  and 
manners  of  Reynolds  would  have  made  him  an  acceptable  com- 
panion in  the  most  intellectual  society.  He  was,  however,  rather 
alarmed  on  hearing  that  people  spoke  of  him  as  "  one  of  the  wits," 
and  exclaimed,  "  Why  have  they  named  me  as  a  wit? — I  never 
was  a  wit  in  my  life."  Reynolds  had  other  merits,  not  unworthy 
of  the  consideration  of  men  so  out  of  favor  with  fortune  at  that 
time  as  Johnson,  and  Goldsmith,  and  Burke.  He  had  a  heavy 
purse,  and  an  hospitable  table. 

In  the  course  of  his  studies  and  convivialities  he  was  attacked 
with  a  serious  illness,  which  was  equally  sudden  and  alarming.  He 
was  cheered  by  the  anxiety  of  many  friends,  and  by  the  solicitude 
of  Johnson,  who  wrote  from  Northamptonshire — "  I  did  not  hear 
of  your  sickness  till  I  heard  likewise  of  your  recovery,  and 
therefore  escaped  that  part  of  your  pain  which  every  man  must 
feel  to  whom  you  arc  known  as  you  are  known  to  me.  If  the 
amusement  of  my  company  can  exhilarate  the  languor  of  a  slow 
recovery,  I  will  not  delay  a  day  to  come  to  you ;  for  I  know  not 
how  I  can  so  effectually  promote  my  own  pleasure  as  by  pleasing 
you,  or  my  own  interest  as  by  preserving  you ;  in  whom,  if  I 
should  lose  you,  I  should  lose  almost  the  only  man  whom  I  can 
call  a  friend."  He  to  whom  Johnson  could  thus  write  must  have 
possessed  many  noble  qualities  ;  for  no  one  could  estimate  human 
nature  more  truly  than  that  illustrious  man.  Our  artist  recovered 
slowly,  and  resumed  his  studies.  The  same  year  which  alarmed 
England  respecting  the  health  of  Reynolds  deprived  it  of  Hogarth. 

Lady  Sarah  Bunbury  sacrificing  to  the  Graces,  Lady  Elizabeth 
Kcppcl  in  the  dress  she  wore  when  bridesmaid  to  the  Queen,  and 
Lady  Waldegrave — one  of  the  beauties  of  the  day — appeared  from 
Reynolds'  pencil  in  17G5,  and  were  regarded  by  Barry  as  among 
the  happiest  of  his  works.  He  commended  them  for  the  greatness 
4 


38 


LIFE. 


of  the  style,  the  propriety  of  the  characters,  the  force  of  light 
and  shade,  and  the  delicacy  of  the  coloring. 

Artists  of  eminence  now  rose  thick  and  fast.  Barry  had  made 
his  appearance  under  the  affectionate  patronage  of  Edmund  Burke. 
West  landed  from  Italy  to  exhibit  himself  in  the  character  of  an 
historical  painter  ;  and  the  names  of  others,  of  scarcely  less  note, 
began  to  be  heard  of.  But  the  ascendancy  of  Reynolds  was  still 
maintained  ;  he  had  charmed  effectually  the  public  eye,  and  kept 
the  world  chained  to  him  by  the  strong  and  enduring  link  of 
vanity. 

To  the  Shakspeare  of  Johnson,  published  in  1765,  Reynolds 
furnished  some  notes,  which  show  his  good  sense  and  good  feeling, 
and  are  deficient  only  where  no  one  could  have  expected  him  to 
excel — black-letter  reading  and  old  dramatic  lore.  He  had  neither 
the  daring  ingenuity  of  a  Warburton,  nor  the  philosophical  saga- 
city of  a  Johnson ;  but  he  tasted  with  as  deep  a  feeling  as  either 
the  rich  excellence  of  the  great  dramatist. 

From  this  period  to  the  establishment  of  the  Royal  Academy 
in  1768,  Reynolds  applied  himself  diligently  to  portraiture,  and, 
though  he  produced  few  works  wherein  fancy  mingled  with  and 
cheated  reality,  he  executed  many  fine  likenesses,  among  which 
that  of  Mrs.  Molesworth  is  distinguished  for  ease  and  beauty, 
and  the  matronly  grace  and  simplicity  of  costume.  Ramsay, 
the  son  of  a  more  distinguished  father,  Allan  Ramsay,  the  poet, 
and  Cotes,  another  painter  of  that  time,  had  all  the  patronage  of 
the  court,  and  were  in  good  employment.  Walpole  says  of  Ram- 
say, that  he  was  the  most  sensible  man  of  all  living  artists.  Those 
men  stood  between  Reynolds  and  royal  favor  ;  yet  he  painted  in 
1766  the  Queen  of  Denmark,  when  she  was  about  to  go  on  her  un- 
happy voyage.  She  seemed  impressed  with  a  presentiment  of  her 
coming  misfortunes,  for  the  artist  always  found  her  in  tears.  Of 
English  artists  Burke  thus  writes  to  Barry,  who  was  studying  at 
Rome :  "  Here  they  are  as  you  left  them  ;  Reynolds  now  and  then 
striking  out  some  wonder."  He  says,  in  another  letter,  "I  found 
that  Reynolds'  expectation  of  what  would  be  your  great  object 
of  attention  were  the  works  of  Michael  Angelo,  whom  he  consid- 
ers as  the  Homer  of  painting.    I  could  find  that  his  own  study  had 


LIFE. 


39 


been  much  engrossed  by  that  master,  whom  he  still  admires  most. 
He  confined  himself  for  months  to  the  Capella  Sistina." 

The  Royal  Academy  was  planned  and  proposed  in  1708  by 
Chambers,  West,  Cotes,  and  Moser  ;  the  caution  or  timidity  of 
Reynolds  kept  him  for  some  time  from  assisting.  A  list  of  thirty 
members  was  made  out ;  and  West,  a  prudent  and  amiable  man, 
called  on  Reynolds,  and,  in  a  conference  of  two  hours'  continu- 
ance, succeeded  in  persuading  him  to  join  them.  lie  ordered  his 
coach,  and,  accompanied  by  West,  entered  the  room  where  his 
brother  artists  were  assembled.  They  rose  up  to  a  man,  and 
saluted  him  u  President."  He  was  affected  by  the  compliment, 
but  declined  the  honor  till  he  had  talked  with  Johnson  and  Burke  ; 
he  went,  consulted  his  friends,  and  having  considered  the  conse- 
quences carefully,  then  consented.  He  expressed  his  belief  at  the 
same  time  that  their  scheme  was  a  mere  delusion  ;  the  King,  ho 
said,  would  not  patronise  nor  even  acknowledge  them,  as  his  ma- 
jesty was  well  known  to  be  the  friend  of  another  body — The  In- 
corporated Society  of  Artists. 

The  plan  of  that  Society  (established  in  1765)  had  failed  to 
embrace  all  the  objects  necessary  for  the  advancement  of  art ; 
several  painters  of  reputation  were  not  of  their  number  ;  and  the 
new  institution,  now  formed  for  the  purpose  of  extending  the  use- 
fulness of  such  a  scheme,  was  the  work  of  many  heads.  Much 
that  was  old  was  adopted,  something  new  was  added,  and  the 
whole  was  carefully  matured  into  a  simple  and  consistent  plan. 
The  professed  objects  were,  an  academy  of  design  for  the  in- 
struction of  students,  and  an  annual  exhibition  which  should  con- 
tain the  works  of  the  academicians,  and  admit  at  the  same  time 
all  other  productions  of  merit.  The  funds  for  the  furtherance  of 
this  design  were  to  come  from  the  fruits  of  the  annual  exhibition. 
The  King,  who  at  first  looked  coldly  upon  the  project,  as  it  seemed 
set  up  in  opposition  to  the  elder  society,  on  farther  consideration 
offered  voluntarily  to  supply  all  deficiencies  annually  from  his 
private  purse.  This  enabled  the  members  to  propose  rewards  for 
the  encouragement  of  rising  genius  ;  and  at  a  future  period  to 
bestow  annuities  on  the  most  promising  students,  to  defray  their 
expenses  during  a  limited  residence  at  Rome.    Johnson  was  made 


40 


LIFE. 


professor  of  ancient  literature,  a  station  merely  honorary — and 
Goldsmith  professor  of  ancient  history,  another  office  without 
labor  and  without  emolument — which  secured  him  a  place,  says 
Percy,  at  the  yearly  dinner.  Of  this  honor  Goldsmith  thus  writes 
to  his  brother  :  li  I  took  it  rather  as  a  compliment  to  the  institu- 
tion than  any  benefit  to  myself.  Honors  to  one  in  my  situation 
are  something  like  ruffles  to  a  man  who  wants  a  shirt."  Lastly, 
the  King,  to  give  dignity  to  the  Royal  Academy  of  Great  Britain, 
bestowed  the  honor  of  knighthood  on  the  President ;  and  seldom 
has  any  such  distinction  been  bestowed  amid  more  universal  ap- 
probation. Burke,  in  one  of  his  admirable  letters  to  Barry,  says, 
"  Reynolds  is  at  the  head  of  this  academy.  From  his  known 
public  spirit,  and  warm  desire  of  raising  up  art  among  us,  he  will, 
I  have  no  doubt,  contrive  this  institution  to  be  productive  of  all 
the  advantages  that  could  possibly  be  derived  from  it ;  and  while 
it  is  in  such  hands  as  his,  we  shall  have  nothing  to  fear  from  those 
shallows  and  quicksands  upon  which  the  Italian  and  French  acade- 
mies have  lost  themselves."  Johnson  was  so  elated  with  the 
honor  of  knighthood  conferred  on  his  friend,  that  he  drank  wine 
in  its  celebration,  though  he  had  abstained  from  it  for  several 
years ;  and  Burke  declared  there  was  a  natural  fitness  in  the  name 
for  a  title.  Of  his  election  as  President,  Northcote  (no  hasty 
writer)  says,  what  I  would  fain  disbelieve,  "  that  he  refused  to 
belong  to  the  society  on  any  other  conditions."  How  this  is  to 
be  reconciled  with  his  confusion  and  surprise  at  being  hailed 
President,  as  above  described,  I  can  not  determine.  The  gentle- 
man who  relates  it  is  cautious  and  candid,  and  would  not  hazard 
such  an  assertion  lightly.  Of  Sir  Joshua's  capacity  to  fill  the 
station  of  President,  and  to  render  it  respectable  by  his  courtesy 
and  embellish  it  by  his  talents,  no  one  ever  entertained  a  doubt ; 
but  it  was  unworthy  of  him  to  stipulate  for  it. 

He  voluntarily  imposed  on  himself  the  task  of  composing  and 
delivering  discourses  for  the  instruction  of  students  in  the  princi- 
ples and  practice  of  their  art.  Of  these  he  wrote  fifteen ;  all 
distinguished  for  clearness  of  conception,  and  for  variety  of 
knowledge.  They  were  delivered  during  a  long  succession  of 
years,  and  in  a  manner  cold  and  sometimes  embarrassed,  and  even 


LIFE. 


41 


unintelligible.  His  deafness,  and  his  abhorrence  of  oratorical 
pomp  of  utterance,  may  have  contributed  to  this  defect.  A  noble- 
man who  was  present  at  the  delivery  of  the  first  of  the  series, 
said,  "  Sir  Joshua,  you  read  your  discourse  in  a  tone  so  low  that 
I  scarce  heard  a  word  you  said."  "  That  was  to  my  advantage," 
replied  the  President,  with  a  smile. 

He  distinguished  himself  in  the  first  exhibition  of  the  Acade- 
my by  paintings  of  the  Duchess  of  Manchester  and  her  son,  as 
Diana  disarming  Cupid ;  Lady  Blake,  as  Juno  receiving  the  cestus 
from  Venus ;  and  Miss  Morris,  as  Hope  nursing  Love.  The  grace 
of  design  and  beauty  of  coloring  in  these  pictures,  could  not  con- 
ceal the  classical  affectation  of  their  titles,  and  the  poverty  of 
invention  in  applying  such  old  and  exhausted  compliments.  Poor 
Miss  Morris  was  no  dandier  of  babes,  but  a  delicate  and  sensitive 
spinster,  unfit  for  the  gross  wear  and  tear  of  the  stage — who 
fainted  in  the  representation  of  Juliet,  and  died  soon  after.  Of 
Lady  Blake's  title  to  represent  Juno,  I  have  nothing  to  say — a 
modern  lord  would  make  an  indifferent  Jupiter,  and  what  claim  a 
Duchess  of  Manchester,  with  her  last-born  in  her  lap,  could  have 
to  the  distinction  of  Diana,  it  is  difficult  to  guess. 

Sir  Joshua  guided  his  pen  with  better  taste  than  his  pencil,  in 
the  first  year  of  his  presidency.  He,  at  the  request  of  Burke, 
addressed  a  letter  of  advice  to  Barry,  which  made  a  strong  impres- 
sion on  the  mind  of  that  singular  man.  "  Whoever,"  says  Sir 
Joshua,  "is  resolved  to  excel  in  painting,  or  indeed  in  any  other 
art,  must  bring  all  his  mind  to  bear  upon  that  one  object  from  the 
moment  that  he  rises  till  he  goes  to  bed ;  the  effect  of  every  object 
that  meets  a  painter's  eye,  may  give  him  a  lesson,  provided  his  mind 
is  calm,  unembarrassed  with  other  objects,  and  open  to  instruction. 
This  general  attention,  with  other  studies  connected  with  the  art, 
which  must  employ  the  artist  in  his  closet,  will  be  found  sufficient 
to  fill  up  life,  if  it  were  much  longer  than  it  is.  Were  I  in  your 
place,  I  would  consider  myself  as  playing  a  great  game,  and  never 
suffer  the  little  malice  and  envy  of  my  rivals  to  draw  off  my  at- 
tention from  the  main  object,  which  if  you  pursue  with  a  steady 
eye,  it  will  not  be  in  the  power  of  all  the  Cicerones  in  the  world 
to  hurt  you.  While  they  are  endeavoring  to  prevent  the  gentle- 
4* 


42 


LIFE. 


men  from  employing  the  young  artists,  instead  of  injuring  them, 
they  are  in  my  opinion  doing  them  the  greatest  service. 

"  Whoever  has  great  views,  I  would  recommend  to  him  while 
at  Rome,  rather  to  live  on  bread  and  water  than  lose  advantages 
which  he  can  never  hope  to  enjoy  a  second  time,  and  which  he 
will  find  only  in  the  Vatican ;  where,  I  will  engage,  no  cavalier 
sends  his  student  to  copy  for  him.  The  Capella  Sistina  is  the 
production  of  the  greatest  genius  that  was  ever  employed  in  the 
arts  ;  it  is  worth  considering  by  what  principles  that  stupendous 
greatness  of  style  is  produced,  and  endeavoring  to  produce  some- 
thing of  your  own  on  those  principles,  will  be  a  more  advanta- 
geous method  of  study  than  copying  the  St.  Cecelia  in  the  Borg- 
hese,  or  the  Herodias  of  Guido,  which  may  be  copied  to  eternity 
without  contributing  a  jot  towards  making  a  man  a  more  able 
painter.  If  you  neglect  visiting  the  Vatican  often,  and  particu- 
larly the  Capella  Sistina,  you  will  neglect  receiving  that  peculiar 
advantage  which  Rome  can  give  above  all  other  cities  in  the 
world.  In  other  places  you  will  find  casts  from  the  antique,  and 
capital  pictures  of  the  great  painters ;  but  it  is  there  only  that 
you  can  form  an  idea  of  the  dignity  of  the  art,  as  it  is  there  only 
that  you  can  see  the  works  of  Michael  Angelo  and  Raphael." 
Barry,  who  at  that  time  was  awed  by  the  fame  of  Reynolds, 
received  this  letter  with  thankfulness,  and  acknowledged  it  with 
civility ;  but  his  precipitancy  of  nature  hindered  him  from  profit- 
ing much  by  it. 

When  Goldsmith  published  his  Deserted  Village,  he  inscribed 
it  to  Sir  Joshua  in  a  very  kind  and  touching  manner.  "  The  only 
dedication  I  ever  made,"  says  the  author  of  the  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field, "  was  to  my  brother,  because  I  loved  him  better  than  most 
other  men.  He  is  since  dead.  Permit  me  to  inscribe  this  poem 
to  you."  The  poet  was  a  frequent  guest  with  Johnson  at  the  table 
of  the  painter,  which  was  adorned  and  enlivened  by  the  presence 
and  the  talents  of  Miss  Reynolds — herself  a  painter  and  poetess, 
and  eminent  for  her  good  sense  and  ready  wit.  This  lady  was  a 
great  favorite  of  Johnson,  who  was  fond  of  her  company,  and 
acknowledged  oftener  than  once  the  influence  of  her  conversa- 
tion. 


LIFE.  43 

I  have  already  said  that  Reynolds  was  an  admirer  of  Pope. 
A  fan,  which  the  poet  presented  to  Martha  Blount,  and  on  which 
he  had  painted,  with  his  own  hand,  the  story  of  Cephalus  and 
Procris,  with  the  motto  "  Aura  Veni,"  was  to  be  sold  by  auction, 
and  Sir  Joshua  sent  a  person  to  bid  for  it  as  far  as  thirty  guineas. 
The  messenger  imagined  that  he  said  thirty  shillings,  and  allowed 
the  relic  to  go  for  two  pounds ;  a  profit,  however,  was  allowed  to 
the  purchaser,  and  it  was  put  into  the  hand  of  the  painter. 
"  See,"  said  he  to  his  pupils,  who  gathered  round  him,  "see  the 
painting  of  Pope — this  must  always  be  the  case  when  the  work  is 
taken  up  from  idleness,  and  is  laid  aside  when  it  ceases  to  amuse : 
it  is  like  the  work  of  one  who  paints  only  for  amusement.  Those 
who  are  resolved  to  excel  must  go  to  their  work,  willing  or  unwill- 
ing, morning,  noon,  and  night ;  they  will  find  it  to  be  no  play,  but 
very  hard  labor."  This  fan  was  afterward  stolen  out  of  his  study ; 
as  a  relic  of  that  importance  can  not  be  openly  displayed  to  the 
world  by  the  person  who  abstracts  it,  it  is  not  easy  to  imagino 
what  manner  of  enthusiast  the  thief  could  be. 

At  a  festive  meeting,  where  Johnson,  Reynolds,  Burke,  Gar- 
rick,  Douglas,  and  Goldsmith  wore  conspicuous,  the  idea  of  com- 
posing a  set  of  extempore  epitaphs  on  one  another  was  started. 
Two  very  indifferent  lines  of  ordinary  waggery  by  Garrick  offend- 
ed Goldsmith  so  much  that  he  avenged  himself  by  composing  the 
celebrated  poem  of  Retaliation,  in  which  he  exhibits  the  characters 
of  his  companions  with  great  liveliness  and  talent.  The  character 
of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  is  drawn  with  discrimination  and  delicacy  ; 
it  resembles,  indeed,  his  own  portraits,  for  the  features  are  a  little 
softened,  and  the  expression  a  little  elevated ;  it  is,  nevertheless, 
as  near  the  truth  as  the  affection  of  the  poet  would  permit  him  to 
come.  The  lines  have  a  melancholy  interest,  from  being  the  last 
which  the  author  wrote. 

"  Here  Reynolds  is  laid,  and  to  toll  you  my  mind, 

lie  has  not  left  a  wiser  or  better  behind ; 

His  pencil  was  striking,  resistless,  and  grand; 

Ilis  manners  were  gentle,  complying,  and  bland ; 

Still  born  to  improve  us  in  every  part, 

His  pencil  our  faces,  his  manners  our  heart." 

That  he  was  an  improver  of  human  faces  no  one  could  be 


44 


LIFE. 


more  conscious  than  Goldsmith ;  his  portrait  by  Reynolds  is 
sufficiently  unlovely,  yet  it  was  said  by  the  artist's  sister  to  be  the 
most  nattered  likeness  of  all  her  brother's  works. 

In  1 771,  James  Northcote  became  his  pupil.  Of  his  coming 
he  thus  speaks: — "As  from  the  earliest  period  of  my  being  able 
to  make  any  observation,  I  had  conceived  Reynolds  to  be  the 
greatest  painter  that  ever  lived,  it  may  be  conjectured  what  I  felt 
when  I  found  myself  in  his  house  as  his  scholar."  He  unites  with 
Malone  in  assuring  us  that  such  was  the  gentleness  of  Sir  Joshua's 
manners,  such  his  refined  habits,  such  the  splendor  of  his  estab- 
lishment and  the  extent  of  his  fame — that  almost  all  the  men  in 
the  three  kingdoms  who  were  distinguished  for  attainments  in 
literature,  for  fame  in  art,  or  for  exertions  at  the  bar,  in  the 
senate,  or  the  field,  were  occasionally  found  feasting  at  his  social 
and  well-furnished  table. 

These  accounts,  however,  in  as  far  as  regards  the  splendor  of 
the  entertainments  must  be  received  with  some  abatement.  The 
eye  of  a  youthful  pupil  was  a  little  blinded  by  enthusiasm — that 
of  Malone  was  rendered  friendly  by  many  acts  of  hospitality  and 
a  handsome  legacy  ;  while  literary  men  and  artists,  who  came  to 
speak  of  books  and  paintings,  cared  little  for  the  most  part  about 
the  delicacy  of  their  entertainment,  provided  it  were  wholesome. 
Take  the  following  description  of  one  of  the  painter's  dinners  by 
the  skilful  hand  of  Courteney:  "There  was  something  singular 
in  the  style  and  economy  of  his  table,  that  contributed  to  pleas- 
antry and  good  humor  ;  a  coarse,  inelegant  plenty,  without  any 
regard  to  order  or  arrangement.  A  table  prepared  for  seven  or 
eight,  often  compelled  to  contain  fifteen  or  sixteen.  When  this 
pressing  difficulty  was  got  over,  a  deficiency  of  knives  and  forks, 
plates,  and  glasses  succeeded.  The  attendance  was  in  the  same 
style ;  and  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  call  instantly  for  beer, 
bread  or  wine,  that  you  might  be  supplied  before  the  first  course 
was  over.  He  was  once  prevailed  on  to  furnish  the  table  with  de- 
canters and  glasses  for  dinners,  to  save  time  and  prevent  the  tardy 
manoeuvres  of  two  or  three  occasional  undisciplined  domestics. 
As  these  accelerating  utensils  were  demolished  in  the  course  of 
service,  Sir  Joshua  could  never  be  persuaded  to  replace  them. 


LIFE. 


45 


But  these  trifling  embarrassments  only  served  to  enhance  the 
hilarity  and  singular  pleasure  of  the  entertainment.  The  wine, 
cookery,  and  dishes  were  but  little  attended  to  ;  nor  was  the  fish 
or  venison  ever  talked  of  or  recommended.  Amid  this  convivial 
animated  bustle  among  his  guests,  our  host  sat  perfectly  com- 
posed, always  attentive  to  what  was  said,  never  minding  what  was 
eat  or  drank,  but  left  every  one  at  perfect  liberty  to  scramble  for 
himself.  Temporal  and  spiritual  peers,  physicians,  lawyers, 
actors,  and  musicians  composed  the  motley  group,  and  played  their 
parts  without  dissonance  or  discord.  At  five  o'clock  precisely, 
dinner  was  served,  whether  all  the  invited  guests  were  arrived  or 
not.  Sir  Joshua  was  never  so  fashionably  ill-bred  as  to  wait  an 
hour  perhaps  for  two  or  three  persons  of  rank  or  title  and  put  the 
rest  of  the  company  out  of  humor  by  this  invidious  distinction." 

Of  the  sluttish  abundance  which  covered  his  table,  Oourteney 
says  enough ;  as  to  the  character  of  the  guests,  we  have  the  testi- 
mony of  Dunning,  afterward  Lord  Ashburton.  Ho  had  accepted 
an  invitation  to  dinner  from  the  artist,  and  happened  to  be  the  first 
guest  who  arrived;  a  large  company  was  expected.  "  Well,  Sir 
Joshua,"  he  said,  "  and  who  have  you  got  to  dine  with  you  to- 
day ?    The  last  time  I  dined  in  your  house,  the  company  was  of 

such  a  sort,  that  by          I  believe  all  the  rest  of  the  world 

enjoyed  peace  for  that  afternoon."  "This  observation,"  says 
Northcote,  "was  by  no  means  ill  applied,  for  as  Sir  Joshua's 
companions  were  chiefly  men  of  genius,  they  were  often  disputa- 
tious and  vehement  in  argument."  Miss  Reynolds  seems  to  have 
been  as  indifferent  about  the  good  order  of  her  domestics,  and  the 
appearance  of  her  dishes  at  table,  as  her  brother  was  about  the 
active  distribution  of  his  wine  and  venison.  Plenty  was  the  splen- 
dor, and  freedom  was  the  elegance  which  Malone  and  Boswell 
found  in  the  entertainments  of  the  artist. 

The  masculine  freedom  of  Johnson's  conversation  was  pleasing 
in  general  to  Reynolds  ;  it  was  not,  however,  always  restrained 
by  a  sense  of  courtesy  or  by  the  memory  of  benefits.  It  is  re- 
lated by  Mrs.  Thrale  that  once  at  her  table  Johnson  lamented  the 
perishable  nature  of  the  materials  of  painting,  and  recommended 
copper  in  place  of  wood  or  canvass.    Reynolds  urged  the  diflicul- 


46 


LIFE. 


ty  of  finding  a  plate  of  copper  large  enough  for  historical  subjects  ; 
he  was  interrupted  by  Johnson.  "What  foppish  obstacles  are 
these  ;  here  is  Thrale,  who  has  a  thousand-tun  copper ;  you  may 
paint  it  all  round  if  you  will,  I  suppose  it  will  serve  him  to  brew 
in  afterward."  When  Johnson's  pen  was  in  his  hand,  and  it  was 
seldom  out  of  it,  he  spoke  of  painting  in  another  mood,  and  of 
Reynolds  with  civility  and  affection.  "Genius,"  he  says,  "is 
chiefly  exerted  in  historical  pictures,  and  the  art  of  the  painter 
of  portraits  is  often  lost  in  the  obscurity  of  the  subject.  But  it 
is  in  painting  as  in  life  ;  what  is  greatest  is  not  always  best.  1 
should  grieve  to  see  Reynolds  transfer  to  heroes  and  to  goddesses, 
to  empty  splendor  and  to  airy  fiction,  that  art  which  is  now  em- 
ployed in  diffusing  friendship,  in  renewing  tenderness,  in  quicken- 
ing the  affections  of  the  absent,  and  continuing  the  presence  of  the 
dead.  Every  man  is  always  present  to  himself,  and  has,  there- 
fore, little  need  of  his  own  resemblance ;  nor  can  desire  it,  but  for 
the  sake  of  those  whom  he  loves  and  by  whom  he  hopes  to  be 
remembered.  This  use  of  the  art  is  a  natural  and  reasonable 
consequence  of  affection ;  and  though,  like  all  other  human 
actions,  it  is  often  complicated  with  pride,  yet  even  such  pride  is 
more  laudable  than  that  by  which  palaces  are  covered  with  pic- 
tures, that,  however  excellent,  neither  imply  the  owner's  virtue 
nor  excite  it."  By  an  opinion  so  critically  sagacious,  and  an 
apology  for  portrait  painting,  which  appeals  so  effectually  to  the 
kindly  side  of  human  nature,  Johnson  repaid  a  hundred  dinners. 

Reynolds  now  raised  his  price  for  a  portrait  to  thirty-five 
guineas,  admitted  some  more  pupils  to  the  advantages  of  his 
studio,  and,  leaving  them  to  forward  draperies  and  make  copies 
of  some  of  his  pictures  in  his  absence,  made  a  visit  to  Paris.  Of 
the  object  of  this  journey  there  is  no  account,  nor  has  he  made 
any  note  of  his  own  emotions  on  observing  the  works  of  the 
French  artists.  He  returned,  and  resumed  his  labors — which 
were  too  pressing  to  permit  him  to  visit  Bennet  Langton,  at  his 
country  seat — though  they  allowed  him  to  obey  the  King's  wish, 
and  see  the  installation  of  the  Knights  of  the  Garter,  in  Windsor ; 
on  which  occasion  his  curiosity  paid  the  tax  of  a  new  hat  and  a 
gold  snuff-box,  pilfered  in  the  crowd. 


LIFE. 


47 


Young  Northcote  acquired  skill  rapidly  under  Sir  Joshua  ;  he 
ere  long  painted  one  of  the  servants  so  like  nature  that  a  tame 
macaw  mistook  the  painting  for  the  original,  against  whom  it  had 
a  grudge,  and  flew  to  attack  the  canvass  with  beak  and  wing. 
The  experiment  of  the  creature's  mistake  was  several  times  re- 
peated with  the  same  success,  and  Reynolds  compared  it  to  the 
ancient  painting  where  a  bunch  of  grapes  allured  the  birds;  "  I 
see,"  said  he,  "that  birds  and  beasts  are  as  good  judges  of  pic- 
tures as  men." 

The  Ugolino  was  painted  in  1773.  The  subject  is  contained  in 
the  Comedia  of  Dante,  and  is  said  by  Cumberland  to  have  been 
suggested  to  our  artist  by  Goldsmith.  The  merit  lies  in  the  exe- 
cution ;  and  even  this  seems  of  a  disputable  excellence.  The  lofty 
and  stern  sufferer  of  Dante  appears  on  Reynold's  canvass  like  a 
famished  mendicant,  deficient  in  any  commanding  qualities  of  in- 
tellect, and  regardless  of  his  dying  children  who  cluster  around 
his  knees.  It  is  indeed  a  subject  too  painful  to  contemplate  ;  it 
has  a  feeling  too  deep  for  art,  and  certainly  demanded  a  hand 
conversant  with  severer  things  than  the  lips  and  necks  of 
ladies,  and  the  well  dressed  gentlemen  of  England.  It  is  said  to 
have  affected  Captain  Cooke's  Omiah  so  much,  that  he  imagined  it 
a  6cene  of  real  distress,  and  ran  to  support  the  expiring  child. 
The  Duke  of  Dorset  paid  the  artist  four  hundred  guineas,  and 
took  home  the  picture.  His  next  piece,  the  Children  in  the  Wood, 
arose  from  an  accident.  A  beggar's  infant,  who  was  his  model 
for  some  other  picture,  overpowered  by  continuing  long  in  one 
position,  fell  asleep,  and  presented  the  image  of  one  of  the  babes, 
which  he  immediately  secured.  No  sooner  had  he  done  this  than 
the  child  turned  in  its  sleep,  and  presented  the  idea  of  the  other 
babe,  which  he  instantly  sketched,  and  from  them  afterward  made 
the  finished  picture.  Accident  often  supplies  what  study  can  not 
find ;  for  nature,  when  unrestrained,  throws  itself  into  positions 
of  great  ease  and  elegance. 

In  the  month  of  July  he  visited  Oxford,  where  he  was  received 
with  some  distinction,  and  admitted  to  the  honorary  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Civil  Law.  At  that  period  he  was  member  of  the  Royal, 
the  Antiquarian,  and  Dilettanti  Societies.    When  he  presented 


48 


LIFE. 


himself  to  the  audience,  and  bowed  and  took  his  seat,  there  was 
much  applause.  Dr.  Beattie  accompanied  him,  and  received  the 
same  honors.  It  seems  a  singular  token  of  respect  to  salute  a 
man  with  a  title  to  which  he  can  neither  lay  claim  by  his  learning 
nor  by  his  pursuits ;  but  in  our  own  time  we  have  seen  Blucher 
and  Platoff  dubbed  Doctors  of  Law  in  the  same  venerable  place. 
From  Oxford,  Reynolds  went  to  visit  a  noble  Duke,  in  compliance 
with  many  pressing  solicitations.  He  hastened  into  his  presence, 
and  was  mortified  with  a  cold  reception.  The  artist,  it  seems,  had 
the  incivility  to  appear  in  his  boots  ! 

On  his  return  to  London,  he  painted  the  celebrated  picture  of 
Dr.  Beattie  in  his  Oxonian  dress  as  Doctor  of  Laws,  with  his  book 
on  the  Immutability  of  Truth  below  his  arm,  and  the  Angel  of 
Truth  beside  him  overpowering  Skepticism,  Sophistry,  and  Infi- 
delity. One  of  these  prostrate  figures  has  a  lean  and  profligate 
look,  and  resembles  Voltaire ;  in  another,  which  is  plump  and  full 
bodied,  some  one  recognized  a  resemblace  to  Hume ;  nor  is  it  un- 
likely that  the  artist  had  Gibbon  in  his  thoughts  when  he  intro- 
duced Infidelity.  The  vexation  of  Goldsmith,  when  he  saw  this 
painting,  overflowed  all  bounds.  "  It  is  unworthy,"  he  said,  "  of 
a  man  of  eminence  like  you,  Sir  Joshua,  to  descend  to  flattery 
such  as  this.  How  could  you  think  of  degrading  so  high  a  genius 
as  Voltaire  before  so  mean  a  writer  as  Beattie.  Beattie  and  his 
book  will  be  forgotten  in  ten  years ;  but  your  allegorical  picture 
and  the  fame  of  Voltaire  will  live  to  your  disgrace  as  a  flatterer." 
There  was  as  much  good  sense  as  envy  in  this.  The  picture  was 
an  inconsiderate  compliment,  and  arose  from  the  false  estimate 
which  Reynolds  had  formed  of  the  genius  of  Beattie.  The  royal 
favor  and  the  applause  of  the  church  are  excellent  in  their  day, 
and  may  float  a  man  on  to  fortune ;  but  posterity  is  an  inexorable 
tribunal,  which  overthrows  all  false  estimates  of  character — all 
unsound  reputations,  and  decides  upon  merit  and  genius  alone. 
Hume,  and  Voltaire,  and  Gibbon — injurious  as  their  works  have 
been  to  the  best  interests  of  mankind — have  survived  the  attack 
of  Beattie  and  the  insult  of  Reynolds. 

About  the  close  of  summer  he  visited  his  native  place,  and  was 
elected  Mayor  of  Plympton — a  distinction  so  much  to  his  liking 


LIFE. 


40 


that  he  assured  the  King,  -whom  he  accidentally  encountered  on 
his  return,  in  one  of  the  walks  at  Hampton  court,  that  it  gave 
him  more  pleasure  than  any  other  he  had  ever  received — "  except- 
ing (he  added — recollecting  himself ) — excepting  that  which  your 
Majesty  so  graciously  conferred  on  me — the  honor  of  knighthood." 

The  arts  now  met  with  a  repulse  from  the  church,  which  is 
often  mentioned  with  sorrow  by  the  painters,  and  even  considered 
as  an  injury  deserving  annual  reprobation.  It  happened  that 
Reynolds  and  West  were  dining  with  the  bishop  of  Bristol,  who 
was  also  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  and  their  conversation  turned  upon 
religious  paintings,  and  upon  the  naked  appearance  of  the  English 
churches  in  the  absence  of  such  ornaments.  West  generously 
offered  his  entertainer  a  painting  of  Moses  and  the  Laws  for  the 
Cathedral  of  St.  Paul,  and  Reynolds  tendered  a  Nativity.  As 
this  offer  was  in  a  manner  fulfilling  the  original  design  of  Sir 
Christopher  Wren,  the  Dean  imagined  it  would  be  received  with 
rapture  by  all  concerned.  He  waited  on  the  King,  who  gave  his 
ready  consent;  but  Terrick,  Bishop  of  London,  objected  at  once, 
and  no  persuasion  could  move  him,  no  arguments  could  change  his 
fixed  and  determined  opposition.  A  little  of  the  old  spirit,  which 
ejected  the  whole  progeny  of  saints  and  Madonnas  out  of  the  re- 
formed church,  was  strong  in  this  Bishop  of  London.  "No," 
said  he,  "while  I  live  and  have  power,  no  popish  paintings  shall 
enter  the  doors  of  the  metropolitan  church."  The  project  was 
dropped,  and  never  again  revived. 

A  portrait  of  Burke,  which  Reynolds  painted  at  the  request 
of  Thrale,  is  the  only  reason  that  has  ever  been  assigned  for  the 
hostility  which  Barry  now  began  to  show,  first,  to  Burke,  and 
afterward  to  Sir  Joshua.  Barry  was  a  proud  artist  and  a  suspi- 
cious man;  he  could  not  be  insensible  that  the  President  had 
amassed  a  fortune,  and  obtained  high  fame  in  abiding  by  the 
lucrative  branch  of  the  profession,  while  he  had  perched  upon  the 
unproductive  bough  of  historical  composition,  and  had  not  been 
rewarded  with  bread.  He  followed  his  own  ideas  in  the  course  he 
pursued,  but  probably  he  reflected  that  he  was  also  obeying  the 
reiterated  injunctions  of  Sir  Joshua,  who  constantly,  in  his  public 
lectures  and  private  counsels,  admonished  all  who  loved  what  was 
5 


50 


LIFE. 


noble  and  sublime,  to  study  the  great  masters,  and  labor  at  the 
grand  style.  This  study  had  brought  Barry  to  a  garret  and  a 
crust ;  the  neglect  of  it  had  spread  the  table  of  Reynolds  with 
that  sluttish  abundance  which  Courteney  describes,  and  put  him 
in  a  coach  with  gilded  wheels,  and  the  seasons  painted  on  its 
panels.  To  all  this  was  added  the  close  friendship  of  his  patron 
Burke  with  the  fortunate  painter.  Barry  fancied — in  short — that 
his  own  merits  were  overlooked,  and  that  something  like  a  com- 
bination was  formed  to  thwart  and  depress  him.  Nor  is  the  mild 
and  prudent  Reynolds  himself  altogether  free  from  the  suspicion 
of  having  felt  a  little  jealousy  towards  one  who  spoke  well,  and 
thought  well,  and  painted  well,  and  who  might  rise  to  fame  and 
opulence  rivalling  his  own. 

Goldsmith  was  removed  by  death,  in  1774,  from  the  friendship 
of  Reynolds,  who  was  deeply  affected ;  he  did  not  touch  his  pencil 
for  a  whole  day  afterward.  He  acted  as  executor — an  easy  trust 
— for  there  was  nothing  left  but  a  large  debt  and  a  confused  mass 
of  papers.  He  directed  his  funeral,  which  was  respectable  and 
private,  and  aided  largely  in  the  monument  which  stands  in  the 
Poet's  Corner  of  Westminster  Abbey.  Nollekens  cut  the  marble ; 
Johnson  composed  the  epitaph. 

To  the  society  called  the  Dilettanti  Club  some  ascribe  the 
origin  of  all  those  associations  whose  object  is  the  encouragement 
of  art.  To  this  club,  as  has  been  duly  mentioned,  Sir  Joshua 
belonged,  and  to  his  pencil  many  of  the  members  are  indebted  for 
the  transmission  of  their  looks — and  names — to  posterity.  These 
portraits  are  contained  in  two  pictures,  in  the  manner  of  Paul 
Veronese,  and  amount  in  all  to  fourteen.  He  was  more  worthily 
employed  when  Johnson  sat  to  him  in  1775 ;  the  picture  shows 
Mm  holding  a  manuscript  near  his  face,  and  pondering  as  he 
reads.  The  near-sighted  "Cham  of  literature"  reproved  the 
painter  in  these  words :  "  It  is  not  friendly  to  hand  down  to  pos- 
terity the  imperfections  of  any  man."  Mrs.  Thrale  interposed, 
and  said,  "You  will  not  be  known  to  posterity  for  your  defects, 
though  Sir  Joshua  should  do  his  worst."  The  artist  was  right — 
he  gave  individuality  and  character  to  the  head. 

His  practice  introduced  him  occasionally  to  strange  acquaint- 


LIFE 


51 


anccs.  A  gentleman,  who  returned  rich  from  the  East,  sat  for 
his  portrait,  but  was  called  into  the  country  before  it  was  quite 
finished.  He  apologized  by  letter  for  his  absence,  and  requested 
that  the  work  might  be  completed.  "My  friends,"  said  he,  "  tell 
me  of  the  Titian  tint  and  the  Guido  air — these  you  can  add  with- 
out my  appearance." 

Sir  Joshua  was  chosen  a  member  of  the  Academy  of  Florence, 
and  in  consequence  he  painted  and  presented  a  portrait  of  him- 
self in  the  dress  of  his  Oxford  honors,  which  is  placed  in  the 
gallery  of  Eminent  Artists  in  that  city.  This  prudent  Italian 
academy  requires  by  its  laws  the  portrait  of  every  new  member, 
painted  by  his  own  hand ;  a  regulation  which  has  accumulated  a 
very  curious  collection.  Sir  Joshua's  performance  raised  the  rep- 
utation of  English  art  in  Florence. 

It  was  his  opinion  that  no  man  ever  produced  more  than  half 
a  dozen  original  works  in  his  whole  lifetime  ;  and  when  he  painted 
the  Strawberry  Girl,  he  said,  "that  is  one  of  my  originals."  On 
looking  at  this  work  it  is  not  easy  to  see  the  cause  of  the  artist's 
preference ;  but  genius  sometimes  forms  curious  estimates  of  its 
own  productions — some  lucky  triumph  over  an  obstinate  difficulty 
— some  work  produced  with  great  ease  in  an  hour  of  enjoyment — 
or  one,  the  offspring  of  much  consideration,  and  the  crowning  of 
some  new  experiment,  is  apt  to  impress  an  idea  of  excellence  on 
the  maker's  mind  which  his  work  fails  to  communicate  to  the  cold 
spectator. 

From  secret  envy  he  had  not  hitherto  escaped ;  he  was  now  to 
experience  an  open  attack,  and  that  from  one  of  his  own  profes- 
sion. A  painter  of  the  name  of  Hone — a  man  of  some  experience 
in  portrait  painting,  but  of  very  moderate  talents — sent  to  the 
annual  exhibition,  "  The  Pictorial  Conjurer,  displaying  his  whole 
art  of  Optical  Deception."  This  was  meant  as  a  satire  upon  the 
style  of  Sir  Joshua,  and  of  the  use  which  he  was  not  unwilling  to 
make  of  the  postures  and  characters  of  earlier  artists.  The  in- 
dignation of  the  friends  of  Reynolds  was  great — they  rejected  the 
offensive  picture  in  the  exhibition,  and  defended  him  with  tongue 
and  pen.  "  He  has  been  accused  of  plagiarism,"  says  one,  "  for 
having  borrowed  attitudes  from  ancient  masters.    Not  only  can- 


52 


LIFE. 


dor,  but  criticism  must  deny  the  force  of  this  charge.  When  a 
single  posture  is  imitated  from  an  historic  picture,  and  applied  to 
a  portrait  in  a  different  dress,  this  is  not  plagiarism,  hut  quota- 
tion ;  and  a  quotation  from  a  great  author,  with  a  novel  applica- 
tion of  the  sense,  has  always  been  allowed  to  be  an  instance  of 
parts  and  taste,  and  may  have  more  merit  than  the  original." 
The  parallel  entirely  fails.  To  give  a  new  turn  to  the  sense  of  a 
sentence,  or  avail  himself  of  a  line  or  two  from  an  early  author, 
is  allowed  to  a  modern  poet.  But  should  he  bring  away  an  entire 
character,  and  employ  it  with  the  whole  costume  of  thought  unal- 
tered, then  he  is  a  plagiarist ;  and  such  in  many  instances  seems 
to  have  been  Sir  Joshua.  His  best  defence  is,  that  he  borrowed 
to  improve,  and  stole  that  he  might  show  his  own  power  of  color- 
ing. Most  of  the  songs  of  Burns,  works  unrivalled  for  nature 
and  passion,  are  constructed  on  the  stray  verse  or  vagrant  line 
of  some  forgotten  bard.  But  then  the  poet  only  employed  those 
as  the  starting  notes  to  his  own  inimitable  strains,  and  never  stole 
the  fashion  and  hue  of  any  entire  lyric. 

An  attack  such  as  that  of  Hone  seemed  to  affect  the  friends 
of  the  artist  more  than  it  did  himself ;  he  said  nothing,  and  the 
subject  passed  to  oblivion.  One  of  a  more  serious  nature,  and 
less  easy  to  refute,  was  made  in  some  of  the  public  prints  con- 
cerning the  instability  of  the  colors  which  he  used  in  painting. 
He  was  accused  of  employing  lake  and  carmine — colors  of  a  na- 
ture liable  to  speedy  decay — and,  in  short,  making  frequent 
experiments  at  the  expense  of  others.  It  was  urged,  that  he 
knew  those  glossy  and  gaudy  colors  would  not  endure  long ; 
and  it  was  hinted,  that  though  the  experiments  which  he  made 
might  be  for  the  advancement  of  art,  they  were  injurious  to 
individuals,  who  purchased  blooming  works,  which  were  destined 
to  fade  in  their  possession  like  the  flowers  of  the  field. 

Of  the  danger  of  using  such  colors  Sir  Joshua  was  at  length 
convinced ;  but  not  until  strong  symptoms  of  decay  had  appeared 
in  many  of  his  own  works ;  as  yet  he  zealously  defended  the  pro- 
priety of  his  experiments  with  his  pen  as  well  as  in  conversation. 
In  one  of  his  memorandums  he  says,  with  much  complacency,  "I 
was  always  willing  to  believe  that  my  uncertainty  of  proceeding 


LIFE. 


in  my  works — that  is,  my  never  being  sure  of  my  hand,  and  my 
frequent  alterations — arose  from  a  refined  taste,  which  could  not 
acquiesce  in  any  thing  short  of  a  high  degree  of  excellence.  I 
had  not  an  opportunity  of  being  early  initiated  in  the  prin- 
ciples of  coloring ;  no  man  indeed  could  teach  me.  If  I  have 
never  settled  with  respect  to  coloring,  let  it  at  the  same  time  bo 
remarked  that  my  unsteadiness  in  this  respect  proceeded  from  an 
inordinate  desire  to  possess  every  kind  of  excellence  that  I  saw  in 
the  works  of  others,  without  considering  that  there  are  in  color- 
ing, as  in  style,  excellences  which  are  incompatible  with  each 
other.  We  all  know  how  often  those  masters  who  sought  after 
coloring  changed  their  manner;  while  others,  merely  from  not 
seeing  various  modes,  acquiesced  all  their  lives  in  that  with  which 
they  set  out.  On  the  contrary,  I  tried  every  effect  of  color,  and, 
by  leaving  out  every  color  in  its  turn,  showed  each  color  that  I 
could  do  without  it.  As  I  alternately  left  out  every  color,  I  tried 
every  new  color ;  and  often,  as  is  well  known,  failed.  I  was  influ- 
enced by  no  idle  or  foolish  affectation.  My  fickleness  in  the  mode 
of  coloring  arose  from  an  eager  desire  to  attain  the  highest  excel- 
lence. This  is  the  only  merit  I  can  assume  to  myself  from  my 
conduct  in  that  respect." 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  continued  these  experiments  for  a 
long  course  of  years,  and  that  they  infected  more  or  less  many  of 
the  finest  of  his  works.  He  was  exceedingly  touchy  of  temper  on 
the  subject  of  coloring,  and  reproved  Northcote  with  some  sharp- 
ness for  insinuating  that  Kuellcr  used  vermillion  in  his  flesh  color. 
"  What  signifies,"  said  he,  "  what  a  man  used  who  could  not  color? 
— you  may  use  it  if  you  will."  He  never  allowed  his  pupils  to 
make  experiments,  and  on  observing  one  of  them  employing  some 
unusual  compounds,  exclaimed,  "  That  boy  will  never  do  good 
with  his  gallipots  of  varnish  and  foolish  mixtures."  The  secret 
of  Sir  Joshua's  own  preparations  was  carefully  kept — he  permit- 
ted not  even  the  most  favored  of  his  pupils  to  acquire  the  knowl- 
edge of  his  colors — he  had  all  securely  locked,  and  allowed  no 
one  to  enter  where  these  treasures  were  deposited.  What  was  the 
use  of  all  this  secresy  ? — those  who  stole  the  mystery  of  his  colors 
could  not  use  it  unless  they  stole  his  skill  and  talent  also.    A  man 


54 


LIFE. 


who,  like  Reynolds,  chooses  to  take  upon  himself  the  double  office 
of  public  and  private  instructor  of  students  in  painting,  ought 
not,  surely,  to  retain  to  himself  a  secret  in  the  art  which  he  con- 
siders to  be  of  real  value. 

He  was  fond  of  seeking  into  the  secrets  of  the  old  painters ; 
and  dissected  some  of  their  performances  without  remorse  or 
scruple,  to  ascertain  their  mode  of  laying  on  color  and  finishing 
with  effect.  Titian  he  conceived  to  be  the  great  master  spirit  in 
portraiture ;  and  no  enthusiast  in  usury  ever  sought  more  inces- 
santly for  the  secret  of  the  philosopher's  stone,  than  did  Reynolds 
to  possess  himself  of  the  whole  theory  and  practice  of  the  Vene- 
tian. But  this  was  a  concealed  pursuit ;  he  disclosed  his  discov- 
eries to  none ;  he  lectured  on  Michael  Angelo,  and  discoursed  on 
Raphael ;  but  he  studied  and  dreamed  of  Titian.  "  To  possess," 
said  the  artist,  "  a  real  fine  picture  by  that  great  master,  I  would 
sell  all  my  gallery — I  would  willingly  ruin  myself."  The  capital 
old  paintings  of  the  Venetian  school  which  Sir  Joshua's  experi- 
ments destroyed,  were  not  few,  and  it  may  be  questioned  if  his 
discoveries  were  a  compensation  for  their  loss.  The  wilful  des- 
truction of  a  work  of  genius  is  a  sort  of  murder,  committed  for 
the  sake  of  art ;  and  the  propriety  of  the  act  is  very  questionable. 
"I  considered  myself,"  said  he,  in  a  private  memorandum  pre- 
served by  Malone,  "  as  playing  a  great  game,  and,  instead  of  be- 
ginning to  save  money,  I  laid  it  out  as  fast  as  I  got  it  in  purcha- 
sing the  best  examples  of  art ;  I  even  borrowed  money  for  this 
purpose.  The  possessing  portraits  by  Titian,  Vandyke,  Rem- 
brandt, &c,  I  considered  as  the  best  kind  of  wealth.  By  this 
kind  of  contemplation  we  are  taught  to  think  in  their  way,  and 
sometimes  to  attain  their  excellence.  If  I  had  never  seen  any  of 
the  works  of  Correggio,  I  should  never,  perhaps,  have  remarked 
in  nature  the  expression  which  I  find  in  one  of  his  pieces ;  or  if  I 
had  remarked  it,  I  might  have  thought  it  too  difficult,  or  perhaps 
impossible  to  be  executed." 

In  the  summer  of  1776,  Northcote  informed  Sir  Joshua  of  his 
intention  of  visiting  Italy,  to  confirm  his  own  notions  of  excel- 
lence by  studying  in  the  Vatican.  This  communication,  which 
deprived  him  of  a  profitable  assistant,  was  received  with  much 


LIFE. 


55 


complacency ;  he  was  sensible  of  the  advantages  obtained  from 
his  pupil's  pencil,  and  said  so  with  much  freedom  and  kindness. 
"Remember,"  said  the  master,  to  his  departing  friend,  "that 
something  moro  must  be  done  than  that  which  did  formerly — Knel- 
ler,  Lely,  and  Hudson,  will  not  do  now."  He  seldom  omitted  an 
opportunity  of  insulting  the  memories  of  Kneller  and  Lely.  He 
might  have  spared  them  now  that  the  world  admitted  him  to  have 
excelled  them. 

He  was  skilful  in  compliments.  When  he  painted  the  portrait 
of  Mrs.  Siddons  as  the  Tragic  Muse,  he  wrought  his  name  on  the 
border  of  her  robe.  The  great  actress  conceiving  it  to  be  a  piece 
of  classic  embroidery,  went  near  to  examine,  and  seeing  the  words, 
smiled.  The  artist  bowed  and  said,  "  I  could  not  lose  this  op- 
portunity of  sending  my  name  to  posterity  on  the  hem  of  your 
garment."  He  painted  his  name,  in  the  same  manner,  on  the 
embroidered  edge  of  the  drapery  of  Lady  Cockburn's  portrait 
When  this  picture  was  taken  into  the  exhibition  room,  such  was 
the  sweetness  of  the  conception,  and  the  splendor  of  the  color- 
ing, that  the  painters  who  were  busied  with  their  own  per- 
formances, acknowledged  its  beauty  by  clapping  their  hands. 
Such  eager  admiration  is  of  rare  occurrence  among  brothers  of  the 
trade. 

The  tardy  praise  which  he  wrung  from  artists  was  amply  com- 
pensated by  that  of  others.  The  surly  applause  of  Johnson,  and 
the  implied  admiration  of  Goldsmith,  were  nothing  compared  to 
the  open  and  avowed  approbation  of  Burke.  That  extraordinary 
man  possessed  a  natural  sagacity,  which  opened  the  door  of  every 
mystery  in  art  or  literature  ;  his  praise  is  always  warm,  but  well 
placed ;  he  feels  wisely  and  thinks  in  the  true  spirit.  His  debt  of 
gratitude  to  Sir  Joshua  was  never  liquidated  by  affected  rapture. 
The  artist  had  reason  to  be  proud  of  the  affection  of  Burke.  He 
sometimes  asked  his  opinion  on  the  merit  of  a  work — it  was  given 
readily — Sir  Joshua  would  then  shake  his  head  and  say,  "Well, 
it  pleases  you ;  but  it  does  not  please  me ;  there  is  a  sweetness 
wanting  in  the  expression  which  a  little  pains  will  bestow — there ! 
I  have  improved  it."  This,  when  translated  into  the  common 
language  of  life,  means,  "  I  must  not  let  this  man  think  that  he  is 


56 


LIFE. 


as  wise  as  myself;  but  show  him  that  I  can  reach  one  step  at 
least  higher  than  his  admiration." 

That  Reynolds  was  a  close  observer  of  nature,  his  works  suffi- 
ciently show ;  he  drew  his  excellence  from  innumerable  sources ; 
paid  attention  to  all  opinions ;  from  the  rudest  minds  he  some- 
times obtained  valuable  hints,  and  babes  and  sucklings  were 
among  his  tutors.  It  was  one  of  his  maxims  that  the  gestures 
of  children,  being  all  dictated  by  nature,  are  graceful ;  and  that 
affectation  and  distortion  come  in  with  the  dancing  master.  He 
watched  the  motions  of  the  children  who  came  to  his  gallery,  and 
was  pleased  when  he  saw  them  forget  themselves  and  mimic  un- 
consciously the  airs  and  attitudes  of  the  portraits  on  the  wall. 
They  were  to  him  more  than  Raphael  had  ever  been.  "  I  can  not 
but  think,"  he  thus  expresses  himself  in  one  of  his  memorandums, 
u  that  Apelles'  method  of  exposing  his  pictures  for  public  criticism 
was  a  very  good  one.  I  do  not  know  why  the  jtidgment  of  the 
vulgar,  on  the  mechanical  parts  of  painting,  should  not  be  as  good 
as  any  whatever ;  for  instance,  as  to  whether  such  or  such  a  part 
be  natural  or  not.  If  one  of  these  persons  should  ask  why  half 
the  face  is  black,  or  why  there  is  such  a  spot  of  black  or  snuff,  as 
they  will  call  it,  under  the  nose,  I  should  conclude  from  thence 
that  the  shadows  are  thick  or  dirtily  painted,  or  that  the  shadow 
under  the  nose  was  too  much  resembling  snuff,  when,  if  those 
shadows  had  exactly  resembled  the  transparency  and  color  of 
nature,  they  would  have  no  more  been  taken  notice  of  than  the 
shadow  in  nature  itself."  Such  were  the  sound  and  sagacious 
opinions  of  this  eminent  man  when  he  sat  down  to  think  for  him- 
self and  speak  from  practice. 

He  had  a  decided  aversion  to  loquacious  artists ;  and  spoke 
little  himself  while  he  was  busied  at  his  easel.  When  artists  love 
to  be  admired  for  what  they  say,  they  will  have  less  desire  to  be 
admired  for  what  they  paint.  He  had,  in  truth,  formed  a  very 
humble  notion  of  the  abstract  meditation  whioh  art  requires,  and 
imagined  it  to  be  more  of  a  practical  dexterity  of  hand  than  the 
offspring  of  intellect  and  skill.  He  assured  Lord  Monboddo  that 
painting  scarcely  deserved  the  name  of  study ;  it  was  more  that 
sort  of  work  (he  said)  which  employed  the  mind  without  fatiguing 


LIFE. 


57 


it,  and  was  thereby  more  conducive  to  individual  happiness  than 
the  practice  of  any  other  profession.  This  Northcote  pronounces 
to  be  the  speech  of  a  mere  portrait  manufacturer ;  but  genius, 
when  congenially  employed,  is  seldom  conscious  of  exertion. 

Dr.  Johnson,  when  questioned  by  Boswell  on  the  merit  of  por- 
traits said,  "  Sir,  their  chief  excellence  is  being  like ;  I  would 
have  them  in  the  dress  of  their  times,  to  preserve  the  accuracy  of 
history — truth,  sir,  is  of  the  greatest  value  in  these  things."  To 
give  the  exact  form  and  pressure  of  the  man,  and  animate  him 
with  his  natural  portion  of  intellect  and  no  more,  requires  a  skil- 
ful hand,  and  a  head  which  the  love  of  nattering  is  unable  to 
seduce  from  the  practice  of  truth.  To  paint  a  likeness  is,  how- 
ever, a  very  common  eflort  of  a  very  common  mind ;  but  to  bestow 
proper  expression,  just  character,  and  unstudied  ease,  is  infinitely 
difficult.  Reynolds  said  he  could  teach  any  boy  whom  chance 
might  throw  in  his  way  to  paint  a  likeness.  "  To  paint  like  Ve- 
lasquez is  another  thing.  He  did  at  once,  and  with  ease,  what  wo 
can  not  accomplish  with  time  and  labor.  Portraits,  as  well  as 
written  characters  of  men,  should  be  decidedly  marked,  otherwise 
they  will  be  insipid,  and  truth  should  be  preferred  before  freedom 
of  hand." 

In  1777  he  had  delivered  seven  discourses  on  art,  which  he 
collected  into  a  volume,  and,  that  they  might  want  no  attraction 
to  recommend  them  to  popularity,  he  inscribed  them  to  the  King 
in  a  dedication  written  with  care  and  caution,  and  neither  deficient 
in  self-approbation,  nor  unadorned  by  classical  allusion. 

He  was  an  ardent  lover  of  his  profession,  and  ever  as  ready  to 
defend  it  when  assailed  as  to  add  to  its  honors  by  the  works  of  his 
hands.  When  Dr.  Tucker,  the  famous  Dean  of  Gloucester,  assert- 
ed before  the  Society  for  encouraging  Commerce  and  Manufactures 
that  a  pin-maker  was  a  more  useful  and  valuable  member  of  society 
than  Raphael,  Sir  Joshua  was  nettled,  and  replied  with  some  as- 
perity;  11  This  is  an  observation  of  a  very  narrow  mind  ;  a  mind 
that  is  confined  to  the  mere  object  of  commerce — that  sees  with 
a  mici'oscopic  eye  but  a  part  of  the  great  machine  of  the  economy 
of  life,  and  thinks  that  small  part  which  he  sees  to  be  the  whole. 
Commerce  is  the  means,  not  the  end,  of  happiness  or  pleasure; 


58 


LIFE. 


the  end  is  a  rational  enjoyment  by  means  of  arts  and  sciences. 
It  is  therefore  the  highest  degree  of  folly  to  set  the  means  in  a 
higher  rank  of  esteem  than  the  end.  It  is  as  much  as  to  say  that 
the  brickmaker  is  superior  to  the  architect." 

Sir  Joshua  now  painted  another  portrait  of  Johnson  at  the 
request  of  Mr.  Thrale.  This  seems  to  have  been  accomplished 
•without  any  of  those  bickerings  which  distinguished  the  former 
sittings.  Reynolds  observed  once  to  an  acquaintance,  that  knowl- 
edge was  not  the  only  advantage  to  be  obtained  in  the  company 
of  such  a  man — that  the  importance  of  truth  and  the  baseness  of 
falsehood  were  inculcated  more  by  example  than  by  precept,  and 
that  all  who  were  of  the  Johnsonian  school  were  remarkable  for 
a  love  of  truth  and  accuracy.  One  day  Boswell  was  speaking  in 
high  commendation  of  the  Doctor's  skill  and  felicity  in  drawing 
characters;  Sir  Joshua  said — "He  is  undoubtedly  admirable  in 
this ;  but  in  order  to  mark  the  characters  which  he  draws,  he 
overcharges  them,  and  gives  people  more  than  they  have,  whether 
of  good  or  bad."  It  would  be  difficult  to  express  more  neatly  and 
simply  the  character  of  our  artist's  own  portraiture.  He  be- 
stowed beauty  and  mind  with  no  sparing  hand.  Every  captain 
has  the  capacity  of  a  general,  and  every  lord  a  soul  fit  for  wielding 
the  energies  of  an  empire. 

Reynolds  was  now  fifty-four  years  old — he  had  acquired  fame 
and  amassed  a  fortune — yet  such  was  his  unabated  activity,  that 
he  continued  to  paint  with  the  avidity  of  one  laboring  for  bread ; 
nor  is  there  any  proof  that  he  even  wished  to  confine  himself  to 
personages  of  note  and  talent.  He  raised  his  price  to  fifty 
guineas,  without  lessening  the  number  of  his  commissions  ;  he 
was  in  the  wane  of  life  ;  the  wise  were  anxious  to  secure  as  many 
proofs  of  his  genius  as  they  could  before  he  went — and  the  rich 
were  glad  of  the  increased  price,  for  it  excluded  the  poor  from 
indulging  in  the  luxury  of  vanity. 

This  fortunate  man  began  now  to  have  warnings  of  the  kind 
which  wait  plentifully  on  advancing  years.  Goldsmith  had  gone ; 
Garrick  followed — and  bodily  decay  was  visibly  creeping  over 
Johnson.  Reynolds  himself — a  frugal  liver  and  a  cautious  man — 
was  still  hale  and  robust ;  he  had  painted  one  generation,  was 


LIFE.  59 

pninting  a  second,  and,  in  the  opinion  of  the  third,  he  promised 
to  last  to  give  them  the  benefit  of  his  skill.  He  had  no  thought, 
indeed,  of  retiring  to  spend  in  leisure  the  money  he  had  gathered  ; 
painting  was  to  him  enjoyment;  and  he  knew  that  if  he  withdrew 
from  the  scene,  much  of  his  social  distinction  would  fall  from 
about  him.  The  powerful  and  the  rich  are  soon  willing  to  forget 
men  of  genius  when  they  cease  to  minister  to  their  vanity  or  their 
pleasures,  and  arc  no  longer  the  talk  of  the  town.  Reynolds  was 
aware  of  this — no  one  had  yet  appeared  capable  of  disputing  with 
him  the  title  of  first  portrait  painter  of  the  age ;  with  this  spell 
he  had  opened  the  doors  as  well  as  the  purses  of  the  proud  and 
the  far-descended,  and  taken  his  seat  among  the  eminent  of  the 
land ;  and  here  he  was  resolved  to  remain. 

In  the  year  1780  the  Royal  Academy  was  removed  to  Somerset 
House — rooms  were  prepared  for  the  reception  of  the  paintings — 
and  models  and  apartments  selected  for  the  keeper  and  the  secre- 
tary. Sir  Joshua  taxed  his  invention  in  the  embellishment  of  the 
ceiling  of  the  library,  and  could  think  of  nothing  better  than 
Theory  sitting  on  a  cloud — a  figure  dark  and  mystical,  which  fails 
to  explain  its  own  meaning — nor  is  the  meaning  much  to  the  pur- 
pose when  it  is  explained.  To  the  exhibition  of  this  year  he  sent 
the  portrait  of  Miss  Beauclerc  as  Spenser's  Una — and  the  heads 
of  Gibbon  the  historian  and  Lady  Beaumont.  He  also  painted 
for  the  Royal  Academy  the  portrait  of  Sir  William  Chambers,  and 
that  likeness  of  himself  which  contains  the  bust  of  Michael  An- 
gelo.  It  was  one  of  the  pleasant  delusions  of  his  life  that  the 
divinity  of  Michael  Angelo  inspired  him  in  his  productions — he 
was  ever  calling  on  his  name — invoking  him  by  his  works — and 
making  five  guineas  an  hour  in  the  belief  that  the  severe  majesty 
of  Buonarotti  was  at  least  dimly  seen  among  the  curls  and 
flounces,  laced  waistcoats,  and  well-powdered  wigs  of  his  English 
nobility. 

He  was  questioned  by  Northcoto  on  the  merits  of  two  French 
portraits,  by  Madame  le  Brun,  which  were  then  exhibited  in  Lon- 
don. "  Pray  what  do  you  think  of  them,  Sir  Joshua?"  Rey- 
nolds— "  That  they  are  very  fine."  Northcote— "  How  fine?" 
Reynolds—"  As  fine  as  those  of  any  painter."    Northcote—"  As 


60 


LIFE. 


fine  as  those  of  any  painter ! — do  you  mean  living  or  dead  ?' 
Reynolds,  sharply — "  Either  living  or  dead !"  Northcote — "  Good 
God!  what,  as  fine  as  Vandyke?"  Reynolds — "Yes,  and  finer." 
Reynolds  had  seen — as  men  see  now — the  wreck  of  high  hopes 
and  lofty  expectations  ;  he  rated  vulgar  popularity  at  its  worth, 
and  disdained  to  interfere  with  the  brief  summer  of  Madame  Le 
Brun. 

A  series  of  allegorical  figures  for  the  window  of  New  College 
Chapel  at  Oxford  employed  his  pencil  during  the  year  1780,  and 
for  several  succeeding  years.  There  are  seven  personifications  in 
all — Faith,  Hope,  Charity,  Temperance,  Fortitude,  Justice,  and 
Prudence.  That  Reynolds  has  conferred  a  healthier  hue  and  more 
splendid  colors  on  those  seven  abstract  personages  than  some  of 
them  enjoyed  before,  I  readily  allow ;  but  they  are  a  cold  and 
unnatural  progeny,  and  are  regarded  only  as  embellishments. 
Without  nature  there  can  be  no  sentiment — without  flesh  and  blood 
there  can  be  no  sympathy.  In  the  group  of  Charity  a  critic  dis- 
covers that  the  "Fondling  of  the  infant,  the  importunity  of  the 
boy,  and  the  placid  affection  of  the  girl,  together  with  the  divided 
attention  of  the  mother,  are  all  distinguishably  and  judiciously 
marked  with  the  knowledge  of  character  for  which  the  great  artist 
who  gave  this  design  is  so  justly  celebrated."  This  passage  has 
surely  been  written  to  show  how  prettily  words  may  be  grouped 
together  without  meaning.  Where  is  the  charity  in  a  mother 
taking  charge  of  her  own  children  ? 

The  Nativity,  a  composition  of  thirteen  figures,  and  in  dimen- 
sions twelve  feet  by  eighteen,  was  designed  to  surmount  the  Seven 
Allegories.  This  was  sold  to  the  Duke  of  Rutland  for  1200 
guineas,  and  was  burnt  at  Belvoir  Castle,  with  many  other  noble 
performances.  It  had  the  fault  of  almost  all  Sir  Joshua's  histori- 
cal works  ;  it  was  cold,  labored,  and  uninspired.  He  had  no  rev- 
elations of  heavenly  things,  such  as  descended  on  Raphael ;  the 
visions  which  presented  themselves  were  unembodied  or  dim,  and 
flitted  before  his  sight  like  the  shadowy  progeny  of  Banquo.  If 
angels  of  light,  ministers  of  grace,  and  souls  of  just  men  made 
perfect  could  have  sat  for  their  portraits,  who  could  have  painted 
them  so  divinely  as  Reynolds  ? 


LIFE. 


61 


Having  painted  a  Thais  with  a  torch  in  her  hand,  a  death  of 
Dido,  and  a  Boy  hearkening  to  a  marvellous  story,  and  placed 
them  in  the  exhibition,  he  set  ofl'  on  a  tour  among  the  galleries 
of  the  continent.  The  fame  of  these  three  new  pictures  followed 
him.  The  Dido,  by  the  loveliness  of  her  face  and  the  rich  color- 
ing of  her  robes,  drew  immense  crowds  to  Somerset  House. 
Meanwhile  he  pursued  his  journey.  He  stopped  at  Mechlin  to  see 
the  celebrated  altar-piece  by  Reubens,  of  which  he  was  told  the 
following  story  : — A  citizen  commissioned  the  picture,  and  Reu- 
bens, having  made  his  sketch,  employed  Van  Egmont,  one  of  his 
scholars,  to  dead-color  the  canvass  for  the  full-size  painting.  On 
this  the  citizen  said  to  Reubens,  "Sir,  I  bespoke  a  picture  from 
the  hand  of  the  master,  not  from  that  of  the  scholar."  M  Content 
you,  my  friend,"  said  the  artist,  "  this  is  but  a  preliminary  pro- 
cess, which  I  always  intrust  to  other  hands."  "  The  citizen,"  said 
Sir  Joshua,  "was  satisfied,  and  Reubens  proceeded  with  the  pic- 
ture, which  appears  to  me  to  have  no  indications  of  neglect  in 
any  part ;  on  the  contrary,  I  think  it  has  been,  for  it  is  a  little 
faded,  one  of  his  best  pictures,  though  those  who  know  this  cir- 
cumstance pretend  to  sec  Van  Egmont's  inferior  genius  through 
the  touches  of  Reubens." 

At  Antwerp  he  noticed  a  young  artist  named  De  Grcc,  who 
had  been  designed  for  the  church,  but  loved  painting  more,  and 
pursued  it  with  success.  He  came  afterward  to  England.  Rey- 
nolds generously  gave  him  fifty  guineas,  which  the  young  man,  as 
pious  as  he  was  enthusiastic,  transmitted  home  for  the  use  of  his 
aged  parents. 

When  Reynolds  returned  to  London  he  found  that  a  new  can- 
didate for  fame  had  made  his  appearance,  and  promised  to  become 
fashionable.  This  was  Opie,  who,  introduced  by  Wolcot,  and  rc- 
mai'kable  alike  by  the  humility  of  his  birth  and  the  brightness 
of  his  talents,  rose  suddenly  into  reputation  and  employment.  It 
is  true  that  he  had  then  but  moderate  skill,  and  that  the  works 
which  the  world  of  fashion  applauded  were  his  worst ;  but  he  was 
a  peasant,  and  therefore  a  novelty  ;  he  could  paint,  and  that  was 
a  wonder.  So  eager  were  the  nobility  and  gentry  to  crowd  into 
his  gallery  that  their  coaches  became  a  nuisance ;  and  the  painter 


G2 


L1JTE. 


jestingly  said  to  one  of  his  brethren,  "  I  must  plant  cannon  at  my 
door  to  keep  the  multitude  off."  This  fever  soon  reached  its  cold 
fit.  But  a  little  while — and  not  a  coronetted  equipage  was  to  be 
seen  in  his  street ;  and  Opie  said  to  the  same  friend,  with  sarcas- 
tic bitterness,  "  They  have  deserted  my  house  as  if  it  were  infect- 
ed with  the  plague."  Sir  Joshua,  who  knew  the  giddy  nature  of 
popular  regard  and  the  hollowness  of  patronage,  regarded  all  this 
bustle  with  calmness ;  nor  was  he  at  all  annoyed  when  the  young 
peasant  was.  employed  by  the  chief  nobility  of  England.  He 
appreciated  Opie's  real  talents,  and,  always  willing  to  find  a 
foreign  forerunner  for  native  genius,  compared  him  to  Carra- 
vaggio. 

At  the  age  of  fifty-eight,  and  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  health 
and  vigor,  Sir  Joshua  was  attacked  by  a  paralytic  affection.  His 
friends  were  more  alarmed  than  himself;  and  Johnson,  to  whom  at 
all  times  the  idea  of  death  was  terrific,  addressed  him  in  a  letter 
of  solemn  anxiety.  "I  heard  yesterday,"  he  says,  "  of  your  late 
disorder,  and  should  think  ill  of  myself  if  I  heard  it  without 
alarm.  I  heard  likewise  of  your  recovery,  which  I  wish  to  be 
complete  and  permanent.  Your  country  has  been  in  danger  of 
losing  one  of  its  brightest  ornaments,  and  I  of  losing  one  of  my 
oldest  and  kindest  friends ;  but  I  hope  you  will  still  live  long  for 
the  honor  of  the  nation ;  and  thot  more  enjoyment  of  your  ele- 
gance, your  intelligence,  and  your  benevolence  is  still  reserved 
for,  dear  sir,  your  most  affectionate — Sam.  Johnson."  Reynolds 
soon  recovered  from  this  attack. 

A  sense  of  the  excellence  of  his  works,  or  acquaintance  with 
his  bounty,  obtained  for  him  the  praise  of  Wolcot,  more  widely 
known  by  the  name  of  Peter  Pindar.  In  the  dearth  of  good  poets 
and  manly  satirists  this  person  rose  into  reputation.  His  works 
had  a  wide  circulation ;  and  he  was  dreaded  by  all  who  had  a 
reputation  which  would  pay  for  an  attack.  His  commendation, 
however,  was  about  as  undesirable  as  his  satire.  In  his  eulogiums 
on  Reynolds,  he  calls  on  Reubens  and  Titian  to  awake,  and  see 
the  new  master  sailing  in  supreme  dominion,  like  the  eagle  of  Jove, 
above  the  heads  of  all  other  mortals.  Those  two  great  artists  are 
in  no  haste  to  arise  to  behold  the  elevation  of  a  maker  of  por- 


LIFE. 


03 


traits,  and  are  insulted  by  the  poet,  and  reproached  with  jealousy. 
Simple  Portrait  stands  ready  to  be  limned,  and  History  sighs, 
anxious  for  his  pencil.  Such  arc  the  thoughts  and  many  of  the 
words  in  which  Wolcot  expressed  his  admiration  of  Reynolds. 
Nor  was  he  much  more  successful  when  he  condescended  to  treat 
of  him  in  prose.  "I  lately  breakfasted,"  he  says,  "  with  Sir 
Joshua,  at  his  house  in  Leicester  Fields.  After  some  desultory 
remarks  on  the  old  masters,  but  not  one  word  of  the  living  artists 
— as  on  that  subject  no  one  can  ever  obtain  his  real  opinion — the 
conversation  turned  on  Dr.  Johnson.  On  my  asking  him  how  the 
club  to  which  he  belonged  could  so  patiently  suffer  the  tyranny  of 
this  overbearing  man,  he  replied  with  a  smile,  that  the  members 
often  hazarded  sentiments  merely  to  try  his  powers  in  contradic- 
tion. I  think  I  in  some  measure  wounded  the  feelings  of  Rey- 
nolds by  observing  that  I  had  often  thought  that  the  Ramblers 
were  Idlers,  and  the  Idlers  Ramblers,  except  those  papers  which 
he  (Reynolds)  had  contributed  ;  and,  farther,  that  Johnson  too 
frequently  acted  the  reverse  of  gipsies  ;  the  gipsies,  said  I,  when 
they  steal  the  children  of  gentlefolks,  conceal  the  theft  by  beg- 
garly disguises ;  whereas  Johnson  often  steals  common  thoughts, 
disguising  the  theft  by  a  pomp  of  language." 

Sir  Joshua,  supreme  head,  as  he  was,  of  the  academy,  and 
unrivalled  in  fame  and  influence,  was  doomed  to  experience  many 
crosses  and  vexations,  but  his  sagacious  spirit  and  tranquil  temper 
brought  him  off  triumphant.  Barry,  a  man  of  great  natural  talents, 
and  one  who  flew  a  flight  even  beyond  Reynolds  in  his  admiration 
of  Michael  Angelo,  differed  with  him  in  every  thing  else.  Becom- 
ing Professor  of  Painting  on  the  resignation  of  Mr.  Penny,  he 
had  it  in  his  power  to  annoy  the  Chair,  and  was  not  slow  in  per- 
ceiving his  advantage.  Reynolds,  in  the  performance  of  his  duty 
as  President,  could  not  fail  to  remark  how  very  backward  the 
Professor  of  Painting  was  in  the  performance  of  his  undertaking 
— he  had  not  delivered  the  stipulated  lectures — and  he  inquired 
if  they  were  composed.  Barry,  a  little  man,  and  full  of  pride, 
rose  on  tiptoe — it  is  even  said  he  clenched  his  fist  to  give  stronger 
emphasis  to  his  words — and  exclaimed,  "If  I  had  only  in  compo- 
sing my  lectures  to  produce  such  poor  mistaken  stuff  as  your 


04 


LIFE. 


discourses,  I  should  have  my  work  done,  and  be  ready  to  read." 
To  reply,  suited  neither  the  dignity  nor  the  caution  of  Reynolds. 
The  world  praised  him  for  his  mildness  and  moderation,  and  cen- 
sured his  fiery  opponent,  on  whom  they  laid  the  whole  blame  of 
this  indecent  and  unusual  scene. 

The  reformation  which  the  Emperor  of  Germany  wrought 
among  the  monastic  establishments,  brought  before  the  public 
many  of  the  productions  of  Reubens ;  and  Reynolds,  who  seldom 
missed  an  opportunity  of  examining  all  paintings  of  eminence, 
went  over  to  the  Netherlands  to  see  them.  He  remarked,  on 
his  return  from  his  first  tour  that  his  own  works  were  deficient 
in  force  in  comparison  to  those  he  had  seen ;  and  on  his  second 
tour,  "  He  observed  to  me,"  said  Sir  George  Beaumont,  "  that 
the  pictures  of  Reubens  appeared  much  less  brilliant  than  they 
had  done  on  the  former  inspection.  He  could  not  for  some  time 
account  for  this  circumstance  ;  but  when  he  recollected  that  when 
he  first  saw  them  he  had  his  note-book  in  his  hand  for  the  pur- 
pose of  writing  down  short  remarks,  he  perceived  what  had  occa- 
sioned their  now  making  a  less  impression  than  they  had  done 
formerly.  By  the  eye  passing  immediately  from  the  white  paper 
to  the  picture,  the  colors  derived  uncommon  richness  and 
warmth  ;  for  want  of  this  foil,  they  afterward  appeared  compara- 
tively cold." 

Mason,  after  having  translated  Du  Fresnoy's  Art  of  Painting, 
laid  it  aside,  and  had  nearly  forgotten  it  when  it  was  brought  into 
light  and  life  by  the  inquiries  and  commendations  and  illustrative 
notes  of  Sir  Joshua.  He  seems  to  have  been  desirous  at  all  times 
of  obtaining  literary  distinction  for  himself ;  or  at  least  of  obtain- 
ing the  regard  of  literary  men.  It  is  true  that  some  of  his  admi- 
rers claim  the  highest  honors  of  literature  for  his  Discourses, 
which  Malone,  inspired  by  his  friendship  and  his  legacy,  calls 
"  The  Golden  Discourses."  Others,  like  Wolcot,  see  an  excellence 
in  his  casual  essays  which  those  of  Johnson  never  attained ;  nor 
is  Northcote  willing  to  be  behind,  for,  instead  of  Burke  lending 
his  aid  to  Reynolds  in  the  composition  of  those  far-famed  Dis- 
courses, he  reverses  the  obligation,  and  insinuates  that  Burke  had 
the  help  of  Sir  Joshua  in  writing  his  admirable  admonition  to 


LIFE. 


65 


Barry.  To  claims  such  as  these  it  -would  be  unwise  to  listen. 
Johnson  and  Burke  were  of  a  higher  order  of  intellect  than  Rey- 
nolds, and  displayed  a  mastery  in  every  subject  with  which  they 
grappled.  Such  men  were  much  more  likely  to  impart  than  re- 
ceive aid  from  him  in  literary  compositions ;  and  there  is  nothing 
in  the  letter  of  Burke  which  required  minute  information,  or  a 
mechanical  acquaintance  with  the  details  of  art.  It  discusses 
principles,  not  practice,  and  may  justly  claim  the  honor  of  being 
the  most  clear,  sagacious,  profound,  and  natural  view  of  the  true 
objects  of  painting  which  has  ever  been  composed. 

The  notes  which  Reynolds  added  to  Du  Fresnoy  may  be  dis- 
missed in  a  few  words.  They  are  distinguished  by  their  sagacity 
and  knowledge — by  their  shrewd  estimates  of  other  men's  merits, 
and  by  their  modesty  concerning  his  own.  I  have  said  that  the 
President  was  frugal  in  his  communications  respecting  the  sources 
from  whence  he  drew  his  own  practice — he  forgets  his  caution  in 
one  of  these  notes.  He  is  speaking  of  the  masters  of  the  Vene- 
tian school,  and  says: — "  When  1  was  at  Venice  the  method  I 
took  to  avail  myself  of  their  principles  was  this  :  When  I  observed 
an  extraordinary  eflect  of  light  and  shade  in  any  picture,  I  took  a 
leaf  out  of  my  pocket-book,  and  darkened  every  part  of  it  in  the 
same  gradation  of  light  and  shade  as  the  picture,  leaving  the 
white  paper  untouched  to  represent  the  light,  and  this  without 
any  attention  to  the  subject  or  the  drawing  of  the  figures.  A  few 
trials  of  this  kind  will  be  sufficient  to  give  the  method  of  their 
conduct  in  the  management  of  their  lights.  After  a  few  experi- 
ments, I  found  the  paper  blotted  nearly  alike ;  their  general  prac- 
tice appeared  to  be,  to  allow  not  above  a  quarter  of  the  picture 
for  the  light,  including  in  this  portion  both  the  principal  and 
secondary  lights ;  another  quarter  to  be  kept  as  dark  as  possible  ; 
and  the  remaining  half  kept  in  mezzotint,  or  half-shadow.  Reu- 
bens appears  to  have  admitted  rather  more  light  than  a  quarter, 
and  Rembrandt  much  less,  scarce  an  eighth  ;  by  this  conduct  Rem- 
brandt's light  is  extremely  brilliant — but  it  costs  too  much — the 
rest  of  the  picture  is  sacrificed  to  this  one  object.  That  light  will 
certainly  appear  the  brightest  which  is  surrounded  with  the  great- 
est quantity  of  shade,  supposing  equal  skill  in  the  artist." 
6* 


66 


LIFE. 


Reynolds  was  commonly  humane  and  tolerant ;  he  could  indeed 
afford,  both  in  fame  and  in  purse,  to  commend  and  aid  the  timid 
and  the  needy.  When  Gainsborough  asked  sixty  guineas  for  his 
Girl  and  Pigs,  Sir  Joshua  gave  him  a  hundred ;  and  when  another 
English  artist  of  celebrity,  on  his  arrival  from  Rome,  asked  him 
where  he  should  set  up  a  studio,  he  informed  him  that  the  next 
house  to  his  own  was  vacant,  and  at  his  service.  He  could,  how- 
ever, be  sharp  and  bitter  on  occasion.  It  is  one  of  the  penalties 
paid  for  eminence  to  be  obliged,  as  a  matter  of  courtesy,  to  give 
opinions  upon  the  attempts  of  the  dull.  Sir  Joshua  had  such 
visitations  in  abundance.  One  morning  he  -became  wearied  in 
contemplating  a  succession  of  specimens  submitted  to  his  inspec- 
tion, and,  fixing  his  eye  on  a  female  portrait  by  a  young  and  trem- 
bling practitioner,  he  roughly  exclaimed  :  "What's  this  in  your 
hand  ?  A  portrait !  you  should  not  show  such  things.  What's 
that  upon  her  head — a  dish-clout  ?"  The  student  retired  in  sor- 
row, and  did  not  touch  his  pencils  for  a  month. 

Allan  Ramsay,  the  King's  painter,  died  in  1784,  and  was  suc- 
ceeded in  his  office  by  Reynolds — the  emolument  was  little,  nor 
Avas  the  honor  important.  Wilkes,  in  his  sarcastic  attack  upon 
Hogarth,  confounds  the  station  with  that  of  the  house  painter ; 
in  short,  the  place,  having  been  filled  by  several  inferior  artists, 
had  sunk  into  discredit,  like  that  of  city  poet.  The  exertions  of 
Burke  in  reforming  the  expenses  of  the  royal  household  had  re- 
duced the  salary  of  the  king's  painter  from  two  hundred  pounds 
to  fifty ;  and  as  Reynolds  had  no  use  for  the  money,  and  as  the 
station  could  confer  no  new  dignity  upon  him,  he  could  have  had 
no  inducement  to  take  it,  save  the  desire  of  complying  with  the 
wishes  of  his  benevolent  sovereign. 

He  distinguished  himself  above  all  his  brother  artists  this  year 
by  his  Fortune  Teller,  his  portrait  of  Miss  Kemble,  and  his  Mrs. 
Siddons  as  the  Tragic  Muse — all  very  noble  compositions.  The 
latter  conveys  a  strong  image  of  the  great  actress,  as  in  the  ful- 
ness of  her  beauty  and  her  genius,  she  awed  and  astonished  her 
audience,  making  Old  Drury  to  show  "  a  slope  of  wet  faces  from 
the  pit  to  the  roof."  It  is,  indeed,  only  a  portrait — though  Barry, 
in  one  of  his  kindly  moods,  claims  for  it  a  distinction  higher  than 


LIFE. 


07 


that  arising  from  resemblance  ;  but  a  portrait  of  Mrs.  Siddons 
was  enough.  When  fully  possessed  with  the  muse,  I  never  beheld 
a  human  being,  either  in  the  imaginings  of  art  or  in  living  life, 
that  seemed  so  near  akin  to  divinity.  The  artist  valued  this  mag- 
nificent painting  at  a  thousand  guineas — it  is  in  the  gallery  of 
William  Smith,  Esq.,  of  Norwich. 

Amid  the  applause  -which  these  works  obtained  for  him,  the 
President  met  with  a  loss  which  the  world  could  not  repair — 
Samuel  Johnson  died  on  the  13th  of  December,  1784,  full  of  years 
and  honors.  A  long,  a  warm,  and  a  beneficial  friendship  had  sub- 
sisted between  them.  The  house  and  the  purse  of  Reynolds  were 
ever  open  to  Johnson,  and  the  word  and  the  pen  of  Johnson  were 
equally  ready  for  Reynolds.  It  was  pleasing  to  contemplate  this 
affectionate  brotherhood,  and  it  was  sorrowful  to  see  it  dissevered. 
"I  have  three  requests  to  make,"  said  Johnson,  a  day  before  his 
death,  "  and  I  beg  that  you  will  attend  to  them,  Sir  Joshua. 
Forgive  me  thirty  pounds  which  I  borrowed  from  you — read  the 
Scriptures — and  abstain  from  using  your  pencil  on  the  Sabbath- 
day."  Reynolds  promised,  and,  what  is  better,  remembered  hi3 
promise. 

We  owe  the  discovery  of  an  original  picture  of  Milton  to  the 
sagacity  of  Reynolds.  It  had  belonged  to  Deborah,  the  poet's 
daughter ;  had  passed  into  the  family  of  Sir  William  Davenant ; 
and  was  found  in  the  possession  of  a  furniture-broker  by  a  dealer 
in  pictures,  who  sold  it  to  Sir  Joshua  for  a  hundred  guineas.  It 
was  painted  by  Samuel  Cooper,  the  friend  and  companion  of  Mil- 
ton, in  1G53.  Doubts  were  raised,  and  suspicions  expressed  con- 
cerning the  descent  of  this  portrait,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that 
all  such  discoveries  deserve  to  be  inquired  into  by  men  acquainted 
with  the  frauds  practised  in  art.  The  professional  experience  of 
Sir  Joshua  was  the  best  security  against  imposition.  He  was  sat- 
isfied of  its  authenticity,  and  defended  it  successfully  in  the  Gen- 
tlemen's Magazine. 

The  works  of  Reynolds  had  long  supplied  daily  food  for  those 
critics  who  swarm  in  the  land — and  scatter  censure  or  praise  at 
least  as  blindly  as  Fortune.  He  was  now  to  be  exposed  to  another 
of  the  same  class,  equally  insidious  and  subtle,  and  coming  in  a 


68 


LIFE. 


graver  shape — a  biographer.  With  so  little  skill,  however,  did  this 
literary  undertaker  make  his  approaches,  that  he  at  first  impress- 
ed the  artist  with  a  notion  that  his  purpose  was  not  to  write  his 
life,  but  to  take  it.  Now  Sir  Joshua  had  long  indulged  in  the 
pleasing  delusion  that  Malone,  or  Boswell,  or  Beattie,  or  Burke, 
on  all  of  whom  he  had  showered  favors,  would  perform  in  due  time 
this  friendly  office.  To  them  he  had  opened  up  all  his  knowledge, 
and  for  their  use  he  had  made  memorandums  concerning  his 
practice,  all  calculated  to  direct  the  pen  and  shorten  the  labor  of 
the  biographer.  But  his  chief  dependence  for  his  biography  was 
on  Burke,  whose  talents  he  rated  even  above  those  of  Johnson, 
and  whose  service  he  sought  to  secure  by  a  donation  of  four  thou- 
sand pounds.  The  best  laid  schemes  of  mice  and  men,  says  the 
poetical  moralist,  are  often  frustrated ;  and  so  it  happened  here. 
Sir  Joshua  refused  the  humble  in  hopes  of  the  high.  When  his 
pencil  could  no  longer  please,  nor  his  pen  sign  away  the  thousands 
in  his  purse,  he  was  neglected  or  forgotten  by  persons  who  had 
followed  and  flattered  him. 

Two  pictures,  differing  much  in  character,  yet  of  great  merit, 
came  from  his  pencil  during  the  year  1785.  One  was  Love  un- 
loosing the  zone  of  Beauty — a  work  which  I  can  not  hope  to  describe 
in  the  language  of  discretion,  and  the  other  was  the  portrait  of 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  infamous  under  the  name  of  Egalite,  of 
whom  I  can  not  write  with  temperance. 

During  the  following  year,  he  gave  up  his  thoughts  and  time  to 
a  picture,  commissioned  by  Catharine  of  Russia,  and  after  long 
choosing,  selected  a  subject  at  once  common-place  and  obscure — 
The  Infant  Hercules  strangling  the  Serpents.  He  had  imagined 
another  and  a  nobler  composition,  Elizabeth  visiting  the  English 
Camp  at  Tilbury,  when  the  Armada  was  on  the  sea ;  but  he  re- 
linquished the  idea,  from  a  wish  to  paint  something  illustrative 
of  the  character  and  undertakings  of  the  empress  herself.  Now 
Catharine  was  a  woman  who  loved  nature,  and  had  no  taste  for 
allegorical  subtleties  ;  and  it  is  probable  her  Russian  connoisseurs 
never  imagined  that  her  actions  were  shadowed  forth  in  a  chubby 
boy  choking  two  snakes.  She  rewarded  the  President,  however, 
with  fifteen  hundred  guineas  and  a  gold  box,  bearing  her  portrait 


LIFE. 


G9 


set  in  large  diamonds.  Beattie  calls  it  an  unpromising  subject ; 
Barry  commends  the  light  and  shade,  and  Reynolds  himself,  on 
bidding  it  farewell,  said,  "  there  are  ten  pictures  under  it,  some 
better,  some  -worse."  So  many  trials  had  he  made,  such  had  been 
his  anxiety  to  produce  a  masterpiece.  The  same  year  he  painted 
a  more  simple  and  more  popular  picture — a  sleeping  girl.  So 
splendid  were  the  colors  in  which  this  sleeping  beauty  was  em- 
bodied, that  they  threw  into  shade  all  other  works  which  were 
near  it  in  the  exhibition. 

When  Boydell,  a  name  which  all  lovers  of  art  have  learned  to 
reverence,  projected  an  edition  of  Shakspeare,  embellished  with 
engravings  from  the  ablest  painters,  he  found  Reynolds  unex- 
pectedly cold  and  backward.  A  sensible  friend  undertook  the 
task  of  persuasion,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  arguments  slipped  a  five 
hundred  pound  note  into  the  artist's  hand.  This  mode  of  reason- 
ing was  persuasive ;  three  pictures  were  promised,  imagined, 
sketched,  and  painted.  The  first  was  Puck,  or  Robin  Goodfellow, 
a  singular  and  a  happy  production,  the  very  image  of  that  tricksy 
sprite,  with  a  hand  ready  for  pleasant  mischief,  and  an  eye  shi- 
ning with  uncommitted  roguery.  This  poetic  picture  is  in  a  poet's 
keeping — that  of  Mr.  Rogers.  The  second  was  Macbeth,  with 
the  witches  and  the  caldron.  The  figure  of  the  usurper  is  defi- 
cient in  heroic  dignity ;  but  there  is  a  supernatural  splendor 
thrown  over  the  hags  which  can  not  be  contemplated  without  awe. 
The  vivid  excellence  of  Shakspeare,  however,  prevails  against  the 
painter ;  the  conception  is  below  the  execution.  The  third  and 
last  was  the  death  of  Cardinal  Beaufort,  a  work  which  has  re- 
ceived the  highest  praise  and  the  deepest  censure.  I  can  not  help 
regarding  the  conception  as  a  failure.  To  augment  the  horrors 
of  a  guilty  conscience,  the  artist  has  introduced  a  fiend,  who 
posts  himself  at  the  dying  man's  head,  and  excites  our  disgust, 
and  carries  away  our  feelings  from  the  departing  sinner.  Those 
who  seek  a  justification  of  this  in  the  poet  will  seek  in  vain ;  the 
lines  quoted  in  its  defence  contain  only  a  figure  of  speeph  ;  one  of 
those  bold  figures  in  which  the  great  dramatist  loved  to  deal. 
"  0  thon  eternal  mover  of  the  heavens, 
Look  with  a  gentle  eye  upon  this  wretch! 


70 


LIFE. 


Oh,  beat  away  the  busy  meddling  fiend 

That  lays  strong  siege  unto  this  wretch's  soul, 

And  from  his  bosom  purge  this  black  despair." 

Those  who  are  unconvinced  by  these  words  may  look  for  the  fiend 
of  the  artist  in  the  dramatis  personse  of  the  poet.  Opie  praises 
this  hideous  and  shapeless  supernumerary  as  "  one  of  the  most 
signal  examples  of  invention  in  the  artist."  The  artist  received 
a  thousand  guineas  for  Macbeth,  and  five  hundred  for  Cardinal 
Beaufort.  He  took  commissions  of  this  kind  with  reluctance  ;  his 
imagination  was  not  a  teeming  one ;  he  had  numerous  trials  to 
make  ;  success  was  never  certain ;  and  when  he  had  finished  his 
work,  he  found  that  the  dead  were  but  indifferent  patrons ;  he 
complained,  in  short,  says  Northcote,  that  those  subjects  "cost 
him  too  dear." 

Of  his  portrait  of  Elliot,  Lord  Heathfield,  Barry  says,  "  His 
object  appears  to  have  been  to  obtain  the  vigor  and  solidity  of 
Titian,  and  the  bustle  and  spirit  of  Vandyke,  without  the  excesses 
of  either."  It  is  a  noble  and  heroic  head.  There  is  a  calm,  mar- 
tial determination,  which  corresponds  with  the  rough  aspect. 
He  grasps  the  key  of  Gibraltar  in  his  hand,  and  seems  to  say, 
amid  the  volleying  smoke  and  fire,  "  This  rock  shall  melt  and  run 
into  the  Mediterranean  before  I  yield  thee." 

Reynolds  once  observed  that  it  was  impossible  for  two  painters 
in  the  same  line  of  art  to  live  in  friendship.  This  was  probably 
uttered  in  a  moment  of  peevishness,  when  he  had  been  thwarted  by 
some  brother  of  the  calling,  and  was  not  intended  for  a  deliberate 
opinion.  It  is,  nevertheless,  nearer  the  truth  than  the  disciples 
of  art  are  willing  to  admit.  What  is  the  secret  history  of  the 
Royal  Academy  but  a  record  of  battles  and  bickerings,  of  petty 
disputes  and  trifling  animosities  ?  Hogarth  lived  before  it  was 
founded  an  object  of  mingled  envy  and  terror.  Gainsborough  dis- 
liked Reynolds,  Reynolds  had  no  good  will  to  Gainsborough  ;  Wil- 
son also  shared  in  this  unamiable  feeling,  and  Barry  was  unwill- 
ing to  forgive  any  one  who  painted  better  than  himself.  These  are 
masters  and  princes  of  the  calling ;  their  open  feuds  and  private 
warrings  would  fill  a  volume  ;  the  animosities  of  the  lesser  spirits 
are  unworthy  of  notice. 


LIFE. 


71 


Sir  Joshua  sat  to  Gainsborough  for  his  portrait ;  before  it  was 
finished,  he  was  taken  ill  and  went  to  Bath ;  of  his  recovery  and 
return  he  gave  intimation ;  but  no  notice  was  taken  of  it,  and  the 
picture  was  never  finished.  Some  unnatural  fit  of  good  will  had 
brought  them  together — on  reflection  they  separated,  and  con- 
tinued to  speak  of  one  another  after  their  own  natures ;  Gains- 
borough with  open  scorn,  Reynolds  with  courteous,  cautious  insinu- 
ation. It  is  true,  however,  that  they  at  length  forgave  each  other 
— that  Gainsborough  on  his  death-bed  made  atonement  for  his  op- 
position and  relinquished  all  dislike — and  that  of  Gainsborough, 
after  he  was  fairly  in  his  grave,  Reynolds  spoke  with  truth  and 
j  ustice. 

The  President  was  persuaded  about  this  time  by  Boswell  to 
attend  the  execution  of  a  robber  at  Newgate.  The  unfortunate 
sufferer  had  been  a  servant  in  the  family  of  Thrale,  had  often 
stood  behind  Sir  Joshua's  back,  and  on  seeing  him  in  the  crowd, 
bowed  to  him  with  mournful  civility.  A  hero  dying  in  battle,  or 
a  saint  in  his  bed,  may  be  worthy  of  contemplation  ;  but  what  a 
Reynolds  could  have  looked  for,  except  disgust  and  sickness  of 
heart,  in  witnessing  the  mortal  agony  of  a  vulgar  malefactor,  I 
am  at  a  loss  to  conceive.  He  was  sharply  admonished  at  the  time 
in  some  of  the  journals. 

Sir  Joshua  had  now  reached  his  sixty-sixth  year;  the  boldness 
and  happy  freedom  of  his  productions  was  undiminished  ;  and  the 
celerity  of  his  execution  and  the  glowing  richness  of  his  coloring, 
were  rather  on  the  increase  than  the  wane.  His  life  had  been 
uniformly  virtuous  and  temperate ;  and  his  looks,  notwithstanding 
the  paralytic  stroke  he  had  lately  received,  promised  health  and 
long  life.  He  was  happy  in  his  fame  and  fortune,  and  in  the 
society  of  numerous  and  eminent  friends ;  and  he  saw  himself  in 
his  old  age  without  a  rival.  His  great  prudence  and  fortunate 
control  of  temper  had  prevented  him  from  giving  serious  ofience 
to  any  individual ;  and  the  money  he  had  amassed,  and  the  style 
in  which  he  lived,  unencumbered  with  a  family,  created  'a  respect 
for  him  among  those  who  were  incapable  of  understanding  his 
merits.  But  the  hour  of  sorrow  was  at  hftnd.  One  day,  in  the 
month  of  July,  1789,  while  finishing  the  portrtft  of  the  Mar- 


72 


LIFE. 


chioness  of  Hertford,  he  felt  a  sudden  decay  of  sight  in  his  left 
eye.  He  laid  down  the  pencil ;  sat  a  little  while  in  mute  consid- 
eration, and  never  lifted  it  more. 

His  sight  gradually  darkened,  and  within  ten  weeks  of  the 
first  attack,  his  left  eye  was  wholly  blind.  He  appeared  cheerful, 
and  endeavored  to  persuade  himself  that  he  was  resigned  and 
happy.  But  he  had  been  accustomed  to  the  society  of  the  titled 
and  the  beautiful — and  from  this  he  was  now  cut  off ;  he  knew  the 
world  well,  and  perceived  that,  as  the  pencil,  which  brought  the 
children  of  vanity  about  him  as  with  a  charm,  could  no  longer  be 
used,  the  giddy  tide  of  approbation  would  soon  roll  another  way. 
His  mental  sufferings  were  visible  to  some  of  his  friends,  though 
he  sought  to  conceal  them  with  all  his  might.  One  read  to  him 
to  charm  away  the  time — another  conversed  with  him — and  the 
social  circle,  among  whom  he  had  so  long  presided,  still  assem- 
bled round  the  well-spread  table.  Ozias  Humphreys  came  every 
morning  and  read  a  newspaper  to  him  ;  his  niece,  afterward  Mar- 
chioness of  Thomond,  arrived  from  the  country  and  endeavored 
to  soothe  and  amuse  him ;  and  he  tried  to  divert  himself  by 
changing  the  position  of  his  pictures,  and  by  exhibiting  them  all 
in  succession  in  his  drawing-room,  so  that  he  at  once  pleased  his 
friends  and  gratified  himself. 

But  a  man  ean  not  always  live  in  society,  nor  can  society  always 
spare  time  to  amuse  him ;  there  are  many  hours  of  existence 
which  he  must  gladden,  as  he  can,  for  himself.  Cowper  took  to 
the  taming  of  hares ;  and  Sir  Joshua  made  a  companion  of  a  little 
bird,  which  was  so  tame  and  docile  as  to  perch  on  his  hand ;  and 
with  this  innocent  favorite  he  was  often  found  by  his  friends  pa- 
cing around  his  room,  and  speaking  to  it  as  if  it  were  a  thing  of 
sense  and  information.  A  summer  morning  and  an  open  window 
were  temptations  which  it  could  not  resist ;  it  flew  away ;  and 
Reynolds  roamed  for  hours  about  the  square  where  he  resided,  in 
hopes  of  reclaiming  it. 

His  rest  was  invaded  by  other  disturbers  than  blindness  :  the 
evil  spirit  of  politics  appeared  in  the  Literary  Club,  and  made 
discord  among  the  brethren  ;  and,  what  was  worse,  a  fierce  feud 
broke  out  between  Sir  Joshua  and  the  Royal  Academy.  Reynolds 


LIFE. 


73 


■wished,  through  the  persuasion  of  the  Earl  of  Aylesford  to  obtain 
the  chair  of  perspective  for  Bonomi,  an  Italian  architect ;  but  as 
he  did  not  belong  to  the  Academy,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should 
be  elected  an  associate,  and  then  a  member,  before  he  could  be 
proposed  as  a  professor.  At  the  election  for  associate  the  numbers 
wore  equal  for  Bonomi  and  Gilpin  ;  the  President  gave  his  casting 
vote  for  the  former,  and  thus  put  him  one  step  in  the  way  towards 
the  professor's  chair.  A  member  soon  after  died,  and  the  archi- 
tect was  put  in  nomination  along  with  Fuseli.  Reynolds  exerted 
all  his  influence  to  secure  the  election  of  the  first  as  royal  acade- 
mician ;  he  met  with  unexpected  opposition.  His  zeal  in  behalf 
of  Bonomi  had  been  too  apparent ;  he  had  pushed  him  by  his 
influence  faster  forward  than  some  thought  his  talents  entitled 
him  to,  and  had  transgressed  a  formal  rule  by  producing  some 
drawings  made  by  the  Italian.  Fuseli  was  elected  by  a  majority 
of  two  to  one,  and  Sir  Joshua  quitted  the  chair  deeply  offended. 
Nor  was  this  all ;  he  wrote  a  warm,  indignant  letter,  resigning  his 
station  as  President,  and  bidding  a  final  farewell  to  the  Academy  ; 
he  thought  a  little — and  burned  it — and  then  wrote  a  cold  and 
courteous  one  to  the  same  effect.  The  Academy  were  overwhelmed 
with  consternation,  and  endeavored  to  soothe  his  pride  by  submis- 
sions little  short  of  prostration.  Sir  William  Chambers  was  the 
bearer,  too,  of  a  royal  wish,  saying  how  happy  his  majesty  would 
be  if  Sir  Joshua  would  continue  President.  Thus  assailed,  he 
relented,  and  resumed  the  seat  which  his  good  sense  should  have 
prevented  him  from  vacating. 

He  resumed  it,  however,  only  to  resign  it,  which  he  performed 
in  kindness,  not  in  anger,  after  an  occupation  of  twenty-one  years. 
During  all  that  period  he  had  continued  absolute  in  the  realms  of 
art,  and  maintained  the  dignity  of  his  profession  both  in  the 
Academy  and  in  society.  He  had  encountered  indeed  the  rough 
hostility  of  Barry,  and  the  opposition  of  Gainsborough ;  but  these 
were  transient  and  ineffectual,  and  save  these  and  some  uncivil 
bickerings  respecting  twopenny-halfpenny  plans  of  economy,  his 
reign  had  been  one  of  prosperity  and  peace.  The  other  thirty- 
nine  members,  indeed,  seem  to  have  regarded  him  with  a  degree 
of  submission  amounting  to  servile  fear ;  and,  generally  speaking, 

7 


74 


LIFE. 


in  the  little  senate  of  the  Academy  he  had  all  his  time  sat  sole 
dictator. 

The  last  time  that  Reynolds  made  his  appearance  in  the  Acad- 
emy was  in  the  year  1790 ;  he  addressed  a  speech  to  the  students 
on  the  delivery  of  the  medals,  and  concluded  by  expatiating  upon 
the  genius  of  his  favorite  master,  in  such  "words  as  a  credulous 
Catholic  may  use  in  praise  of  a  benevolent  saint.  "  I  feel,"  said 
he,  "  a  self-congratulation  in  knowing  myself  capable  of  such  sen- 
sations as  he  intended  to  excite.  I  reflect,  not  without  vanity, 
that  these  discourses  bear  testimony  of  my  admiration  of  that 
truly  divine  man  ;  and  I  should  desire  that  the  last  words  which 
I  should  pronounce  in  this  Academy,  and  from  this  place,  might 
be  the  name  of  Michael  Angelo." 

His  last  visit  to  the  Academy  seemed  once  on  the  point  of  end- 
ing tragically.  There  were  present,  besides  members  and  students, 
a  number  of  persons  of  rank  and  importance.  The  multitude  was 
large,  the  weight  great,  and  just  as  the  President  was  commencing 
his  discourse,  a  beam  in  the  floor  gave  way  with  a  loud  crash- 
The  audience  rushed  to  the  door,  or  to  the  sides  of  the  room ; 
lord  tumbled  over  student,  student  over  lord,  and  academicians 
over  both.  Sir  Joshua  sat  silent  and  unmoved  in  his  chair  ;  and 
as  the  floor  only  sunk  a  little,  it  was  soon  supported — the  compa- 
ny resumed  their  seats — and  he  recommenced  his  discourse,  all 
with  perfect  composure.  He  afterward  remarked,  that  if  the 
floor  had  fallen,  the  whole  company  must  have  been  killed,  and  the 
arts  in  Britain  thrown  two  hundred  years  back  in  consequence. 
He  considered  art  as  an  inheritance  descending  from  father  to  son  ; 
he  believed  that  each  succeeding  generation  would  grow  wiser 
and  better,  and  that  future  academicians  had  only  to  add  the 
knowledge  of  the  dead  to  the  genius  of  the  living,  and  rise  higher 
and  higher ;  painting  history  till  it  became  divine,  and  portraits 
worthy  of  the  gods.  That  this  wild  notion  was  fixed  within  him 
there  can  be  no  dispute.  "  So  much  will  painting  improve,"  said 
he,  "  that  the  best  we  can  now  achieve  will  appear  like  the  work 
of  children." 

That  examples  of  excellence  in  art  might  not  be  wanting,  Sir 
Joshua  offered  to  the  Royal  Academy  his  valuable  collection  of 


LIFE. 


75 


pictures  by  the  great  masters,  at  a  very  low  price,  on  the  condi- 
tion that  they  should  purchase  a  good  gallery  for  their  reception. 
It  was  his  fortune  to  meet  with  many  mortifications  towards  the 
close  of  his  career,  and  this  was  one ;  the  Academy,  with  a  par- 
simony which  is  left  unexplained,  declined  the  purchase.  They 
could  not  want  money — for  the  President  knew  their  circum- 
stances ;  but  they  wanted  a  proper  enthusiasm  for  art.  Among 
forty  men  some  two  or  three  sordid  souls  are  sure  to  be  mixed, 
whose  chief  delight  is  the  accumulation  of  money ;  who  damp  a 
generous  enthusiasm  by  their  parsimonious  calculations,  and  de- 
light in  tying  up  the  public  gains  of  an  institution  at  a  satisfacto- 
ry per-centage.  Disappointed  in  this,  Sir  Joshua  made  an  exhi- 
bition of  them  in  the  Hay  market,  for  the  advantage  of  his  faithful 
servant,  Ralph  Kirkley  ;  but  our  painter's  well  known  love  of 
gain  excited  public  suspicion ;  he  was  considered  by  many  as  a 
partaker  in  the  profits,  and  reproached  by  the  application  of  two 
lines  from  Hudibras — 

"  A  squire  he  had  who«e  name  was  Ralph, 
Who  in  the  adventure  went  his  half." 

But  he  was  soon  to  be  removed  from  the  ingratitude  of  friends 
and  the  malevolence  of  enemies.  He  had  been  on  a  visit  to  Mr. 
Burke  in  Buckinghamshire.  On  his  return,  he  alighted  at  the  inn 
at  Hayes,  and  walked  five  miles  on  the  road,  in  company  with  Mr. 
Malone,  without  stopping,  and  without  complaint.  He  had  then, 
though  sixty-eight  years  old,  the  looks  of  a  man  of  fifty,  and 
seemed,  said  Malone,  as  likely  to  live  ten  or  fifteen  years  as  any 
of  his  younger  friends.  Soon  after  his  return  home  his  spirits 
became  much  depressed ;  a  tumor,  which  baffled  the  skill  of  the 
surgeons,  began  to  gather  over  his  left  eye,  and,  feeling  the  op- 
pression of  infirmities,  he  at  length  resigned  for  ever  the  situation 
of  President  of  the  Royal  Academy. 

A  concealed  and  fatal  malady  was  invading  the  functions  of 
life,  and  sapping  his  spirits.  This  was  an  enlargement  of  the 
liver,  which  expanded  to  twice  its  natural  dimensions,  defied  hu- 
man skill,  and  deprived  him  of  all  cheerfulness.  His  friends 
were  ever  with  him,  and  sought  to  soothe  him  with  hopes  of  re- 


76 


LIFE. 


covery  and  with  visions  of  long  life ;  but  he  felt,  in  the  simple 
language  of  the  old  bard, 

"  That  death  was  with  him  dealing," 
refused  to  be  comforted,  and  prepared  for  dissolution.  "  I  have 
been  fortunate,"  he  said,  "in  long  good  health  and  constant  suc- 
cess, and  I  ought  not  to  complain.  I  know  that  all  things  on  earth 
must  have  an  end,  and  now  I  am  come  to  mine."  Sir  Joshua  ex- 
pired, without  any  visible  symptoms  of  pain,  on  the  twenty-third 
of  February,  1792,  in  the  sixty-ninth  year  of  his  age. 

"His  illness,"  says  Burke,  "was  long,  but  borne  with  a  mild 
and  cheerful  fortitude,  without  the  least  mixture  of  any  thing 
irritable  or  querulous ;  agreeably  to  the  placid  and  even  tenor  of 
his  whole  life.  He  had,  from  the  beginning  of  his  malady,  a 
distinct  view  of  his  dissolution ;  and  he  contemplated  it  with  that 
entire  composure,  which  nothing  but  the  innocence,  integrity,  and 
usefulness  of  his  life,  and  an  unaffected  submission  to  the  will  of 
Providence,  could  bestow." 

He  was  interred  in  one  of  the  crypts  of  St.  Paul's  cathedral, 
and  accompanied  to  the  grave  by  many  of  the  most  illustrious 
men  of  the  land — forty-two  coaches  conveyed  the  mourners,  and 
forty-nine  empty  carriages  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  added  their 
encumbrance  to  the  procession.  He  lies  by  the  side  of  Sir  Chris- 
topher Wren,  architect  of  the  edifice  ;  and  a  statue  to  his  memory 
by  Flaxman  has  since  been  placed  in  the  body  of  the  cathedral. 

In  stature  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was  somewhat  below  the  mid- 
dle size ;  his  complexion  was  florid,  his  features  blunt  and  round, 
his  aspect  lively  and  intelligent,  and  his  manners  calm,  simple, 
and  unassuming.  He  was  an  early  mover — a  man  whom  applica- 
tion could  not  tire,  nor  constant  labor  subdue.  In  his  economy 
he  was  close  and  saving ;  while  he  poured  out  his  wines,  and 
spread  out  his  tables  to  the  titled  or  the  learned,  he  stinted  his 
domestics  to  the  commonest  fare,  and  rewarded  their  faithfulness 
by  very  moderate  wages.  One  of  his  servants,  who  survived  till 
lately,  described  him  as  a  master  who  exacted  obedience  in  trifles, 
was  prudent  in  the  matter  of  pins — a  saver  of  bits  of  thread — -a 
man  hard  and  parsimonious,  who  never  thought  he  had  enough 
of  labor  out  of  his  dependents,  and  always  suspected  that  he 


LIFE. 


77 


overpaid  them.  To  this  may  be  added  the  public  opinion,  which 
pictured  him  close,  cold,  cautious,  and  sordid;  and — on  the  other 
side,  we  have  the  open  testimony  of  Burke,  Malone,  Boswell,  and 
Johnson,  who  all  represent  him  as  generous,  open-hearted,  and 
humane.  The  servants  and  the  friends  both  spoke,  I  doubt  not, 
according  to  their  own  experience  of  the  man.  Privations  in  early 
life  rendered  strict  economy  necessary  ;  and  in  spite  of  many  acts 
of  kindness,  his  mind  on  the  whole  failed  to  expand  with  his  for- 
tune ;  he  continued  the  same  system  of  saving  when  he  was  mas- 
ter of  sixty  thousand  pounds,  as  when  he  owned  but  sixpence. 
He  loved  reputation  dearly,  and  it  would  have  been  well  for  his 
fame,  if,  over  and  above  leaving  legacies  to  such  friends  as  Burke 
and  Malone,  he  had  opened  his  heart  to  humbler  people.  A  little 
would  have  gone  a  long  way — a  kindly  word  and  a  guinea  pru- 
dently given ! 

Sir  Joshua  has  a  threefold  claim  upon  posterity — for  his  Dis- 
courses, his  historical  and  poetical  paintings,  and  his  portraits. 
Of  all  these  I  have  already  spoken  at  some  length.  The  Dis- 
courses were  delivered  when  the  annual  distribution  of  medals 
took  place  among  the  most  promising  students  of  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy. Their  object  was  to  impress  upon  the  minds  of  his  audi- 
ence a  sense  of  the  dignity,  and  a  knowledge  of  the  character  and 
importance  of  art — to  stimulate  them  to  study  and  labor — to  point 
out  the  way  to  excellence ;  unfold  the  principles  of  composition, 
and  disclose  the  charms  of  beauty  and  the  whole  mystery  of  color. 
He  required  lively  diligence — continued  study  and  unlimited 
belief  in  the  excellence  of  the  chief  masters  of  the  calling — in 
reward  for  which  he  promised  distinction  and  fame.  But  fame 
could  be  acquired  only  by  study,  hard,  and,  above  all,  well- 
directed — rules  were  the  ornaments,  not  the  fetters,  of  genius,  and 
hard  labor  was  the  way  to  eminence,  and  the  only  way.  The 
great  painters,  when  they  conceived  a  subject,  first  made  a  variety 
of  sketches,  then  a  finished  drawing  of  the  whole — after  that  a 
more  correct  drawing  of  every  separate  part — then  they  painted 
the  picture,  and  after  all  retouched  it  from  the  life.  The  pictures 
thus  wrought  with  such  pains,  appeared  to  be  the  ellect  of  en- 
chantment, and  as  if  some  mighty  genius  had  struck  them  off  at 

7* 


78  LIFE. 

a  blow.  Those  Discourses  were  always  heard  with  respect ;  and 
as  the  subject  was  new,  the  compositions  full  of  knowledge,  and 
the  illustrations  numerous  and  happy,  they  obtained  the  approba- 
tion of  skilful  judges,  and  rose  to  such  reputation,  that  they  were 
attributed  at  one  time  to  Johnson,  and  at  another  to  Burke. 

They  are  distinguished  by  many  beauties,  and  deformed  by 
one  serious  fault — they  correspond  not  with  the  character  of 
English  art,  and  the  determined  taste  of  this  country.  "Study," 
exclaimed  Reynolds  to  his  students  (and  I  could  quote  fifty  pages 
to  the  same  purpose,)  "  study  the  great  works  of  the  great  mas- 
ters for  ever.  Study  as  nearly  as  you  can  in  the  order,  in  the 
manner,  on  the  principles  on  which  they  studied.  Study  nature 
attentively,  but  always  with  those  masters  in  your  company ; 
consider  them  as  models  which  you  are  to  imitate,  and  at  the 
same  time  as  rivals  which  you  are  to  combat."  Such  was  his 
theory ;  we  all  know  what  was  his  practice.  He  could  not  be 
unaware,  while  he  was  lecturing  the  annual  academical  crop  of 
beardless  youths  upon  the  necessity  of  studying  in  the  character, 
and  laboring  in  the  style  of  the  princes  of  the  Italian  school,  that 
he  was  sending  them  forth  to  seek  bread  and  fame  in  a  pursuit 
where  neither  were  to  be  found ;  while  he  was  shutting  his  lips, 
and  keeping  silence  concerning  the  domestic  style  and  the  mystery 
of  portraiture,  in  which  he  himself  was  unequalled. 

It  was,  I  apprehend,  too,  the  province  of  the  President  to 
point  out  those  natural  qualities  by  which  genius  for  art  might  be 
distinguished  from  forwardness  and  presumption,  and  young  men 
might  see  whether  they  were  led  by  the  false  light  of  vanity  or  by 
light  from  heaven.  Every  dunce  can  labor ;  but  stupidity  must 
toil  like  Caliban,  while  genius  works  its  ready  wonders  like  the 
wand  of  Prospero.  It  was  not  enough  that  he  called  the  students 
before  him,  and  set  them  their  stated  tasks  of  smoothing  clay  or 
of  coloring  canvass — he  ought  to  have  admonished,  nay,  command- 
ed the  dull  and  unintellectual  to  retire  from  a  pursuit  for  which 
they  were  unfit.  All  men  indeed  are  capable  of  being  artists  in  a 
certain  degree,  as  all  men  may  be  versifiers  ;  but  a  decent  draw- 
ing is  no  more  a  proof  of  genius  in  art,  than  a  few  smooth  and 
sounding  lines  are  a  proof  of  the  spirit  of  poetry.    The  youth  who 


LIFE.  79 

is  to  be  encouraged  in  the  pursuit  of  poetry  should  show  glimpses 
of  original  power  of  thought  and  ready  happiness  of  language ; 
and  a  student  in  art  should  display  some  production  of  original 
and  unborrowed  talent,  before  admission  to  the  Academy.  A  good 
eye,  a  steady  hand,  and  a  little  practice  may  enable  any  young 
man  to  make  such  a  copy  of  an  antique  figure  as  will  give  him 
admission,  without  genius  to  rise  one  step  higher. 

Sir  Joshua's  historical  paintings  have  little  of  the  heroic  dig- 
nity which  an  inspired  mind  breathes  into  compositions  of  that 
class.  His  imagination  commonly  fails  him,  and  he  attempts  to 
hide  his  want  of  wings  in  the  unrivalled  splendor  of  his  coloring, 
and  by  the  thick-strewn  graces  of  his  execution.  He  is  often 
defective  even  where  he  might  have  expected  to  show  the  highest 
excellence ;  his  faces  are  formal  and  cold  ;  and  the  picture  seems 
made  up  of  borrowed  fragments,  which  he  had  been  unable  to 
work  up  into  an  entire  and  consistent  whole. 

His  single  poetic  figures  are  remarkable  -for  their  unaffected 
ease,  their  elegant  simplicity,  and  the  splendor  of  their  coloring. 
Some  scores  of  those  happy  things  he  dashed  off  in  the  course  of 
his  life,  and  though  they  were  chiefly  portraits,  they  have  all  the 
charm  of  the  most  successful  aerial  creations.  The  Shepherd 
Boy  is  one  of  his  happiest.  Of  children  he  seems  to  have  been 
remarkably  fond  ;  nor  can  one  forbear  imagining  that  he  has 
romped  or  ridden  with  them  on  the  parlor  broom,  sorrowed  with 
them  over  the  loss  of  their  favorite  birds,  smiled  with  them  on 
their  being  endowed  with  new  finery,  and  enjoyed  all  the  mixed 
surprise  and  triumph  expressed  in  the  face  of  Muscipula  on 
catching  a  mouse  in  a  trap.  It  is  true  that  they  are  all  children 
of  condition,  with  their  nurses  wet  and  dry — -"that  their  clothes 
are  of  the  finest  texture  and  the  latest  fashion — and  that  we  are 
conscious  of  looking  at  future  lords  and  ladies.  But  nature  over- 
powers all  minor  feelings,  and  we  can  not  refrain  from  doing  in- 
voluntary homage  to  the  genius  of  the  painter  who  has  gladdened 
us  with  the  sight  of  so  much  innocence  and  beauty. 

To  some  of  his  poetic  figures  I  can  not  all'ord  such  praise, 
though  the  grace  of  their  composition  and  the  singular  sweetness 
of  their  looks  raise  them  far  above  censure.    By  what  he  consid- 


80 


LIFE. 


ered  a  classical  refinement  upon  his  professional  flattery  of  im- 
proved looks  and  glowing  colors,  he  suffered  some  of  the  fairest 
of  his  sitters  to  be  goddesses  and  nymphs,  and  painted  them  in 
character.  This  was  the  common-place  pedantry  of  painting  ;  it 
had  been  the  fashion  for  centuries.  Lely  and  Kneller  caused  the 
giddy  madams  of  the  courts  of  the  Stuarts  to  stalk  like  Minervas 
or  Junos,  though  they  had  naturally  the  dispositions  of  Venus  or 
Danae  ;  and  Reynolds,  who  had  equal  loveliness  and  infinitely 
more  purity  to  portray,  indulged  his  beauties  with  the  same  kind 
of  deification.    In  truth,  it  is  only  worthy  of  a  smile. 

The  portraits  of  Reynolds  are  equally  numerous  and  excellent, 
and  all  who  have  written  of  their  merits  have  swelled  their  eulo- 
giums  by  comparing  them  with  the  simplicity  of  Titian,  the  vigor 
of  Rembrandt,  and  the  elegance  and  delicacy  of  Vandyke.  Cer- 
tainly, in  character  and  expression,  and  in  manly  ease,  he  has 
never  been  surpassed.  He  is  always  equal — always  natural — 
graceful — unaffected.  His  boldness  of  posture  and  his  singular 
freedom  of  coloring  are  so  supported  by  all  the  grace  of  art — by 
all  the  sorcery  of  skill — that  they  appear  natural  and  noble.  Over 
the  meanest  head  he  sheds  the  halo  of  dignity ;  his  men  are  all 
nobleness,  his  women  all  loveliness,  and  his  children  all  simplicity  ; 
yet  they  are  all  like  the  living  originals.  He  had  the  singular  art 
of  summoning  the  mind  into  the  face,  and  making  sentiment  min- 
gle in  the  portrait.  He  could  completely  dismiss  all  his  precon- 
ceived notions  of  academic  beauty  from  his  mind,  be  dead  to  the 
past  and  living  only  to  the  present,  and  enter  into  the  character 
of  the  reigning  beauty  of  the  hour  with  a  truth  and  a  happiness 
next  to  magical.  It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  he  was  a  mighty  flat- 
terer. Had  Colonel  Charteris  sat  to  Reynolds,  he  would,  I  doubt 
not,  have  given  an  aspect  worthy  of  a  President  of  the  Society 
for  the  Suppression  of  Vice. 

That  the  admirers  of  portrait  painting  are  many,  the  annual 
exhibitions  show  us ;  and  it  is  pleasant  to  read  the  social  and  do- 
mestic affections  of  the  country  in  these  innumerable  productions. 
In  the  minds  of  some  they  rank  with  historical  compositions ;  and 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  portraits  which  give  the  form  and  the 
soul  of  poets  and  statesmen  and  warriors,  and  of  all  whose  actions 


LIFE. 


81 


or  whose  thoughts  lend  lustre  to  the  land,  are  to  be  received  as 
illustrations  of  history.  But  with  the  mob  of  portraits  fame  and 
history  have  nothing  to  do.  The  painter  who  wishes  for  lasting 
fame  must  not  lavish  his  fine  colors  and  his  choice  postures  on  the 
rich  and  the  titled  alone  ;  he  must  seek  to  associate  his  labors 
with  the  genius  of  his  country.  The  face  of  an  undistinguished 
person,  however  exquisitely  painted,  is  disregarded  in  the  eyes  of 
posterity.  The  most  skilful  posture  and  the  richest  coloring  can 
not  create  the  reputation  which  accompanies  genius,  and  we  turn 
coldly  away  from  the  head  which  we  happen  not  to  know  or  to 
have  heard  of.  The  portrait  of  Johnson  has  risen  to  the  value 
of  five  hundred  guineas  ;  while  the  heads  of  many  of  Sir  Joshua's 
grandest  lords  remain  at  their  original  fifty. 

The  influence  of  Reynolds  on  the  taste  and  elegance  of  the 
island  was  great,  and  will  be  lasting.  The  grace  and  ease  of  his 
compositions  were  a  lesson  for  the  living  to  study,  while  the  sim- 
plicity of  his  dresses  admonished  the  gi'ldy  and  the  gay  against 
the  hideousness  of  fashion.  He  sought  to  restore  nature  in  the 
looks  of  his  sitters,  and  he  waged  a  thirty  years'  war  against  the 
fopperies  of  dress.  His  works  diffused  a  love  of  elegance,  and 
united  with  poetry  in  softening  the  asperities  of  nature,  in  ex- 
tending our  views,  and  in  connecting  us  with  the  spirits  of  the 
time.  His  cold  statelincss  of  character,  and  his  honorable  pride 
of  art,  gave  dignity  to  his  profession  ;  the  rich  and  the  far-de- 
scended were  pleased  to  be  painted  by  a  gentleman  as  well  as  a 
genius. 

Of  historical  and  poetic  subjects  he  painted  upwards  of  one 
hundred  and  thirty.  They  are  chiefly  in  England,  and  in  the 
galleries  or  chambers  of  the  titled  and  the  opulent.  The  names 
of  a  few  of  the  most  famous  may  interest  the  reader :  Macbeth 
and  the  Witches ;  Cardinal  Beaufort ;  Holy  Family  ;  Hercules 
strangling  the  Serpents ;  the  Nativity  ;  Count  Ugolino ;  Cymon 
and  Iphigenia ;  the  Fortune  Teller ;  Garrick  between  Tragedy 
and  Comedy;  the  Snake  in  the  Grass;  the  Blackguard  Mercury; 
Muscipula ;  Puck  ;  Mrs.  Siddons  as  the  Tragic  Muse ;  the  Shep- 
herd Boy  ;  Venus  chiding  Cupid  for  casting  accounts. 

Of  men  he  painted  the  portraits  of  some  four-and-twenty, 


82 


LIFE. 


whose  names  still  occupy  their  station  in  fame  or  history ;  and 
of  ladies  he  painted  many  remarkable  for  accomplishments, 
mental  and  personal.  Among  the  former,  are  Percy,  Bishop  of 
Dromore ;  Edmund  Burke ;  Colonel  Tarleton ;  Dr.  Charles  Burney ; 
Dr.  Hawkeswortk;  Dr.  Robertson;  Joseph  Warton ;  Earl  of  Mans- 
field ;  Edward  Gibbon ;  Oliver  Goldsmith  ;  Samuel  Johnson ;  War- 
ren Hastings ;  Lord  Anson ;  Lord  Heathfield ;  Lord  Ligonier ;  Lord 
Rodney  ;  Lord  Thurlow ;  Lord  Granby ;  Thomas  Warton  ;  Adam 
Ferguson;  Sir  Joseph  Banks;  Sir  William  Chambers;  Laurence 
Sterne ;  Dr.  Beattie ;  Viscount  Keppel ;  Horace  Walpole  ;  and  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds. 

Let  me  conclude  with  the  words  of  Burke.  They  are  a  little 
loftier  than  necessary,  and  somewhat  warmer;  but  much  less 
can  not  be  said  when  a  colder  tale  comes  to  be  told. 

"  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was,  on  many  accounts,  one  of  the 
most  memorable  men  of  his  time.  He  was  the  first  Englishman 
who  added  the  praise  of  the  elegant  arts  to  the  other  glories  of  his 
country.  In  taste — in  grace — in  facility — in  happy  invention — 
and  in  the  richness  and  harmony  of  coloring,  he  was  equal  to  the 
greatest  masters  of  the  renowned  ages.  In  portrait  he  went  be- 
yond them  ;  for  he  communicated  to  that  description  of  the  art  in 
which  English  artists  are  most  engaged,  a  variety,  a  fancy,  and  a 
dignity  derived  from  the  higher  branches,  which  even  those  who 
professed  them  in  a  superior  manner,  did  not  always  preserve 
when  they  delineated  individual  nature.  His  portraits  remind 
the  spectator  of  the  invention  and  the  amenity  of  landscape.  In 
painting  portraits  he  appeared  not  to  be  raised  upon  that  plat- 
form, but  to  descend  upon  it  from  a  higher  sphere. 

"  In  full  affluence  of  foreign  and  domestic  fame,  admired  by 
the  expert  in  art  and  by  the  learned  in  science,  courted  by  the 
great,  caressed  by  sovereign  powers,  and  celebrated  by  dis- 
tinguished poets,  his  native  humility,  modesty,  and  candor  never 
forsook  him,  even  on  surprise  or  provocation ;  nor  was  the  least 
degree  of  arrogance  or  assumption  visible  to  the  most  scrutinizing 
eye  in  any  part  of  his  conduct  or  discourse. 

"  His  talents  of  every  kind,  powerful  by  nature  and  not 
meanly  cultivated  by  letters — his  social  virtues  in  all  the  relations 


LIFE. 


*3 


and  all  the  habitudes  of  life,  rendered  him  the  centre  of  a  very 
great  and  unparalleled  variety  of  agreeable  societies,  which  will 
be  dissipated  by  his  death.  He  had  too  much  merit  not  to  excite 
some  jealousy — too  much  innocence  to  provoke  any  enmity. 
The  loss  of  no  man  of  his  time  can  be  felt  with  more  sincere, 
general,  and  unmixed  sorrow.    Hail !  and  Farewell." 


DISCOURSES. 


TO 


THE  KING. 

The  regular  progress  of  cultivated  life  is  from  necessaries  to 
accommodations,  from  accommodations  to  ornaments.  By  your 
illustrious  predecessors  were  established  Marts  for  manufactures, 
and  Colleges  for  science :  but  for  the  arts  of  elegance,  those  arts 
by  which  manufactures  are  embellished,  and  science  is  refined,  to 
found  an  Academy  was  reserved  for  Your  Majesty. 

Had  such  patronage  been  without  effect,  there  had  been  reason 
to  believe  that  Nature  had,  by  some  insurmountable  impediment, 
obstructed  our  proficiency ;  but  the  annual  improvement  of  the 
Exhibitions  which  Your  Majesty  has  been  pleased  to  encourage, 
shows  that  only  encouragement  had  been  wanting. 

To  give  advice  to  those  who  arc  contending  for  royal  liberality, 
has  been  for  some  3rcars  the  duty  of  my  station  in  the  Academy ; 
and  these  discourses  hope  for  Your  Majesty's  acceptance,  as  well 
intended  endeavors  to  incite  that  emulation  which  your  notice  has 
kindled,  and  direct  those  studies  which  your  bounty  has  rewarded. 
May  it  please  Your  Majesty, 

Your  Majesty's 

Most  dutiful  Servant, 

And  most  faithful  Subject, 
[1778.]  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


TO 


THE  MEMBERS 
OP 

THE  ROYAL  ACADEMY. 

GENTLEMEN, 

That  you  have  ordered  the  publication  of  this  discourse,  is  not 
only  very  flattering  to  me,  as  it  implies  your  approbation  of  the 
method  of  study  which  I  have  recommended ;  but  likewise,  as  this 
method  receives  from  that  act  such  an  additional  weight  and 
authority,  as  demands  from  the  Students  that  deference  and  re- 
spect, Avhich  can  be  due  only  to  the  united  sense  of  so  considerable 
a  Body  of  Artists. 

I  am,  with  the  greatest  esteem  and  respect, 
Gentlemen, 

Your  most  humble, 

And  obedient  Servant, 

JOSHUA  REYNOLDS. 


CONTENTS. 


DISCOURSE  I. 

Page. 

The  advantages  proceeding  from  the  institution  of  a  Royal 
Academy. — Hints  offered  to  the  consideration  of  the  Pro- 
fessors and  visitors. — That  an  implicit  obedience  to  the 
rules  of  Art  be  exacted  from  the  young  students. — 
That  a  premature  disposition  to  a  masterly  dexterity  bo 
repressed. — That  diligence  be  constantly  recommended, 
and  (that  it  may  be  effectual)  directed  to  its  proper 
object.    -   9 

DISCOURSE  II. 

The  course  and  order  of  study. — The  different  stages  of  Art. 
— Much  copying  discountenanced. — The  Artist  at  all  times 
and  in  all  places  should  be  employed  in  laying  up  mate- 
rials for  the  exercise  of  his  Art.      -----  18 


DISCOURSE  UL 

The  great  leading  principles  of  the  grand  style. — Of  beauty. 
— The  genuine  habits  of  nature  to  be  distinguished  from 
those  of  fashion.    -       --       --       --  -33 

1* 


6 


CONTENTS. 


DISCOURSE  IV. 

Page. 

General  ideas  the  presiding  principle  -which  regulates  every 
part  of  Art ;  Invention,  Expression,  Coloring,  and  Dra- 
pery.— Two  distinct  styles  in  history-painting ;  the  grand 
and  the  ornamental. — The  schools  in  which  each  is  to  be 
found. — The  composite  style. — The  style  formed  on  local 
customs  and  habits,  or  a  partial  view  of  nature.      -      -  48 


DISCOURSE  V. 

Circumspection  required  in  endeavoring  to  unite  contrary 
excellencies. — The  expression  of  a  mixed  passion  not  to 
be  attempted. — Examples  of  those  who  excelled  in  the 
great  style. — Raffaelle,  Michael  Angelo,  those  two  extra- 
ordinary men  compared  with  each  other. — The  charac- 
teristical  style. — Salvator  Rosa  mentioned  as  an  example 
of  that  style ;  and  opposed  to  Carlo  Maratti. — Sketch  of 
the  characters  of  Poussin  and  Rubens. — These  two  Paint- 
ers entirely  dissimilar,  but  consistent  with  themselves. — 
This  consistency  required  in  all  parts  of  the  Art.    -      -  69 


DISCOURSE  VI. 

Imitation. — Genius  begins  where  rules  end. — Invention:  ac- 
quired by  being  conversant  with  the  inventions  of  others. 
— The  true  method  of  imitating. — Borrowing,  how  far 
allowable. — Something  to  be  gathered  from  every  school.  86 


DISCOURSE  VII. 

The  reality  of  a  standard  of  taste  as  well  as  of  corporal 
beauty. — Beside  this  immutable  truth,  there  are  second- 
ary truths,  which  are  variable  ;  both  requiring  the  atten- 
tion of  the  Artist,  in  proportion  to  their  stability  or  their 
influence.  -  -111 


CONTENTS. 


7 


DISCOURSE  VIII. 

Page. 

The  principles  of  Art,  whether  Poetry  or  Tainting,  have  their 
foundation  in  the  mind;  such  as  novelty,  variety,  and 
contrast:  these  in  their  excess  become  defects. — Sim- 
plicity, its  excess  disagreeable. — llules  not  to  be  always 
observed  in  their  literal  sense;  sufficient  to  preserve  the 
spirit  of  the  law. — Observations  on  the  Prize  Pictures.    -  143 


DISCOURSE  IX. 

On  the  removal  of  the  Royal  Academy  to  Somerset  Place. — 
The  advantages  to  Society  from  cultivating  intellectual 
pleasure.        -       --       --       --       --  1G8 

DISCOURSE  X. 

Sculpture:  has  but  one  style. — Its  objects,  form,  and  charac- 
ter.— Ineffectual  attempts  of  the  modern  Sculptors  to  im- 
prove the  art. — 111  effects  of  modern  dress  in  Sculpture.  172 


DISCOURSE  XI. 

Genius :    Consists  principally  in  the  comprehension  of  A 
tohole;  in  taking  general  ideas  only.        -       -       -       -  188 


DISCOURSE  XII. 

Particular  methods  of  study  of  little  consequence. — Little  of 
the  art  can  be  taught. — Love  of  method  often  a  love  of 
idleness. — Pittori  improvvisatori  apt  to  be  careless  and 
incorrect;  seldom  original  and  striking.  This  proceeds 
from  their  not  studying  the  works  of  other  masters.        -  205 


DISCOURSE  XIII. 

Art  not  merely  imitation,  but  under  the  direction  of  the 
Imagination. — In  what  manner  Poetry,  Painting,  Acting, 
Gardening,  and  Architecture,  depart  from  Nature.   -       -  227 


8 


CONTENTS. 


DISCOURSE  XIV. 

Page. 

Character  of  Gainsborough;  his  excellencies  and  defects.      -  246 

DISCOURSE  XV. 

The  President  takes  leave  of  the  Academy. — A  Review  of  the 
Discourses. — The  study  of  the  Works  of  Michael  Angelo 
recommended.  265 


DISCOURSE  I. 


Delivered  at  the  Opening  of  the  Royal  Academy,  January  2,  17G9. 

The  advantages  proceeding  from  the  institution  of  a  Royal  Academy. — Hints 
offered  to  the  consideration  of  the  Professors  and  Visiters. — That  an  implicit 
obedience  to  the  rules  of  Art  be  exacted  from  the  young  students. — That  a  pre- 
mature disposition  to  a  masterly  dexterity  be  repressed. — That  diligence  be 
constantly  recommended,  and  (that  it  may  be  effectual)  directed  to  its  proper 
object. 

GENTLEMEN, 

An  Academy,  in  which  the  Polite  Arts  may  be  regu- 
larly cultivated,  is  at  last  opened  among  us  by  Royal  Mu- 
nificence. This  must  appear  an  event  in  the  highest  degree 
interesting,  not  only  to  the  Artist,  but  to  the  whole  nation. 

It  is  indeed  difficult  to  give  any  other  reason,  why  an 
empire  like  that  of  Britain  should  so  long  have  wanted  an 
ornament  so  suitable  to  its  greatness,  than  that  slow  progres- 
sion of  things,  which  naturally  makes  elegance  and  refine- 
ment the  last  effect  of  opulence  and  power. 

An  Institution  Hke  this  has  often  been  recommended 
upon  considerations  merely  mercantile ;  but  an  Academy, 
founded  upon  such  principles,  can  never  effect  even  its  own 
narrow  purposes.  If  it  has  an  origin  no  higher,  no  taste  can 
ever  be  formed  in  manufactures;  but  if  the  higher  Arts  of 
Design  flourish,  these  inferior  ends  will  be  answered  of 
course. 

We  arc  happy  in  having  a  Prince,  who  has  conceived 
the  design  of  such  an  Institution,  according  to  its  true  dig- 
nity; and  who  promotes  the  Arts,  as  the  head  of  a  great,  a 


10 


THE  FIRST  DISCOURSE. 


learned,  a  polite,  and  a  commercial  nation ;  and  I  can  now 
congratulate  you,  gentlemen,  on  the  accomplishment  of  your 
long  and  ardent  wishes. 

The  numberless  and  ineffectual  consultations  which  I 
have  had  with  many  in  this  assembly  to  form  plans  and 
concert  schemes  for  an  Academy,  afford  a  sufficient  proof 
of  the  impossibility  of  succeeding  but  by  the  influence  of 
Majesty.  But  there  have,  perhaps,  been  times,  when  even 
the  influence  of  Majesty  would  have  been  ineffectual ;  and 
it  is  pleasing  to  reflect,  that  we  arc  thus  embodied,  when 
every  circumstance  seems  to  concur  from  which  honor  and 
prosperity  can  probably  arise. 

There  are,  at  this  time,  a  greater  number  of  excellent 
artists  than  were  ever  known  before  at  one  period  in  this 
nation ;  there  is  a  general  desire  among  our  Nobility  to  be 
distinguished  as  lovers  and  judges  of  the  Arts;  there  is  a  * 
greater  superfluity  of  wealth  among  the  people  to  reward 
the  professors ;  and,  above  all,  we  are  patronised  by  a  Mon- 
arch, who,  knowing  the  value  of  science  and  of  elegance, 
thinks  every  art  worthy  of  his  notice,  that  tends  to  soften 
and  humanise  the  mind. 

After  so  much  has  been  done  by  His  Majesty,  it  will 
be  wholly  our  fault,  if  our  progress  is  not  in  some  degree 
correspondent  to  the  wisdom  and  generosity  of  the  Institu- 
tion :  let  us  show  our  gratitude  in  our  diligence,  that,  though 
our  merit  may  not  answer  his  expectations,  yet,  at  least,  our 
industry  may  deserve  his  protection. 

But  whatever  may  be  our  proportion  of  success,  of  this 
we  may  be  sure,  that  the  present  Institution  will  at  least 
contribute  to  advance  our  knowledge  of  the  Arts,  and  bring 
us  nearer  to  that  ideal  excellence,  which  it  is  the  lot  of  ge- 
nius always  to  contemplate,  and  never  to  attain. 


THE  FIRST  DISCOURSE 


11 


The  principal  advantage  of  an  Academy  is,  that,  besides 
furnishing  able  men  to  direct  the  Student,  it  will  be  a  repos- 
itory for  the  great  examples  of  the  Art.  These  are  the 
materials  on  which  Genius  is  to  work,  and  without  which 
the  strongest  intellect  may  be  fruitlessly  or  deviously  em- 
ployed. By  studying  these  authentic  models,  that  idea  of 
excellence  which  is  the  result  of  the  accumulated  experience 
of  past  ages  may  be  at  once  acquired ;  and  the  tardy  and 
obstructed  progress  of  our  predecessors  may  teach  us  a 
shorter  and  easier  way.  The  Student  receives,  at  one 
glance,  the  principles  which  many  Artists  have  spent  their 
whole  lives  in  ascertaining ;  and,  satisfied  with  their  effect, 
is  spared  the  painful  investigation  by  which  they  came  to 
be  known  and  fixed.  How  many  men  of  great  natural  abil- 
ities have  been  lost  to  this  nation,  for  want  of  these  advan- 
tages !  They  never  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  those 
masterly  efforts  of  genius,  which  at  once  kindle  the  whole 
soul,  and  force  it  into  sudden  and  irresistible  approbation. 

llaffaelle,  it  is  true,  had  not  the  advantage  of  studying 
in  an  Academy  j  but  all  Home,  and  the  works  of  Michael 
Angclo  in  particular,  were  to  him  an  Academy.  On  the 
sight  of  the  Capella  Sistina,  he  immediately,  from  a  dry, 
Gothic,  and  even  insipid  manner,  which  attends  to  the 
minute  accidental  discriminations  of  particular  and  indi- 
vidual objects,  assumed  that  grand  style  of  painting,  which 
improves  partial  representation  by  the  general  and  invariable 
ideas  of  nature. 

Every  seminary  of  learning  may  be  said  to  be  surrounded 
with  an  atmosphere  of  floating  knowledge,  where  every 
mind  may  imbibe  somewhat  congenial  to  its  own  original 
conceptions.  Knowledge,  thus  obtained,  has  always  some- 
thing more  popular  and  useful  than  that  which  is  forced 


12 


THE  FIRST  DISCOURSE. 


upon  the  mind  by  private  precepts,  or  solitary  meditation. 
Besides,  it  is  generally  found,  that  a  youth  more  easily  re- 
ceives instruction  from  the  companions  of  his  studies,  whose 
minds  are  nearly  on  a  level  with  his  own,  than  from  those 
who  are  much  his  superiors ;  and  it  is  from  his  equals  only 
that  he  catches  the  fire  of  emulation. 

One  advantage,  I  will  venture  to  affirm,  we  shall  have 
in  our  Academy,  which  no  other  nation  can  boast.  We 
shall  have  nothing  to  unlearn.  To  this  praise  the  present 
race  of  Artists  have  a  just  claim.  As  far  as  they  have  yet 
proceeded,  they  are  right.  With  us  the  exertions  of  genius 
will  henceforward  be  directed  to  their  proper  objects.  It 
will  not  be  as  it  has  been  in  other  schools,  where  he  that 
travelled  fastest  only  wandered  farthest  from  the  right  way. 

Impressed,  as  I  am,  therefore,  with  such  a  favorable 
opinion  of  my  associates  in  this  undertaking,  it  would  ill 
become  me  to  dictate  to  any  of  them.  But  as  these  Insti- 
tutions have  so  often  failed  in  other  nations ;  and  as  it  is 
natural  to  think  with  regret,  how  much  might  have  been 
done,  I  must  take  leave  to  offer  a  few  hints,  by  which  those 
errors  may  be  rectified,  and  those  defects  supplied.  These 
the  Professors  and  Visiters  may  reject  or  adopt  as  they  shall 
think  proper. 

I  would  chiefly  recommend,  that  an  implicit  obedience 
to  the  Rules  of  Art,  as  established  by  the  practice  of  the 
great  Masters,  should  be  exacted  from  the  young  Students. 
That  those  models,  which  have  passed  through  the  approba- 
tion of  ages,  should  be  considered  by  them  as  perfect  and 
infallible  guides;  as  subjects  for  their  imitation,  not  their 
criticism. 

I  am  confident,  that  this  is  the  only  efficacious  method 
of  making  a  progress  in  the  Arts ;  and  that  he  who  sets  out 


THE  FIRST  DISCOURSE. 


13 


with  doubting,  will  find  life  finished  before  he  becomes  mas- 
ter of  the  rudiments.  For  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  maxim, 
that  he  who  begins  by  presuming  on  his  own  sense,  has 
ended  his  studies  as  soon  as  he  has  commenced  them.  Ev- 
ery opportunity,  therefore,  should  be  taken  to  discounten- 
ance that  false  and  vulgar  opinion,  that  rules  are  the  fetters 
of  genius :  they  are  fetters  only  to  men  of  no  genius ;  as 
that  armor,  which  upon  the  strong  is  an  ornament  and  a 
defense,  upon  the  weak  and  mis-shapen  becomes  a  load,  and 
cripples  the  body  which  it  was  made  to  protect. 

How  much  liberty  may  be  taken  to  break  through  those 
rules,  and,  as  the  poet  expresses  it, 

To  snatch  a  grace  beyond  the  reach  of  art, 
may  be  a  subsequent  consideration,  when  the  pupils  become 
masters  themselves.  It  is  then,  when  their  genius  has  re- 
ceived its  utmost  improvement,  that  rules  may  possibly  be 
dispensed  with.  But  let  us  not  destroy  the  scaffold,  until 
we  have  raised  the  building. 

The  Directors  ought  more  particularly  to  watch  over  the 
genius  of  those  Students,  who,  being  more  advanced,  are 
arrived  at  that  critical  period  of  study,  on  the  nice  manage- 
ment of  which  their  future  turn  of  taste  depends.  At  that 
age  it  is  natural  for  them  to  be  more  captivated  with  what 
is  brilliant  than  with  what  is  solid,  and  to  prefer  splendid 
negligence  to  painful  and  humiliating  exactness. 

A  facility  in  composing,  a  lively,  and  what  is  called  a 
masterly  handling  of  the  chalk  or  pencil,  are,  it  must  be 
confessed,  captivating  qualities  to  young  minds,  and  become 
of  course  the  objects  of  their  ambition.  They  endeavor  to 
imitate  these  dazzling  excellencies,  which  they  will  find  no 
great  labor  in  attaining.  After  much  time  spent  in  these 
frivolous  pursuits,  the  difficulty  will  be  to  retreat;  but  it 


14 


THE  FIRST  DISCOURSE. 


will  be  then  too  late ;  and  there  is  scarce  an  instance  of 
return  to  scrupulous  labor,  after  the  mind  has  been  de- 
bauched and  deceived  by  this  fallacious  mastery. 

By  this  useless  industry  they  are  excluded  from  all 
power  of  advancing  in  real  excellence.  Whilst  boys,  they 
are  arrived  at  their  utmost  perfection  :  they  have  taken  the 
shadow  for  the  substance ;  and  make  the  mechanical  felicity 
the  chief  excellence  of  the  art,  which  is  only  an  ornament, 
and  of  the  merit  of  which  few  but  painters  themselves  are 
judges. 

This  seems  to  me  to  be  one  of  the  most  dangerous 
sources  of  corruption ;  and  I  speak  of  it  from  experience, 
not  as  an  error  which  may  possibly  happen,  but  which  has 
actually  infected  all  foreign  Academies.  The  directors 
were  probably  pleased  with  this  premature  dexterity  in 
their  pupils,  and  praised  their  despatch  at  the  expense  of 
their  correctness. 

But  young  men  have  not  only  this  frivolous  ambition 
of  being  thought  masters  of  execution,  inciting  them  on 
one  hand,  but  also  their  natural  sloth  tempting  them  on 
the  other.  They  are  terrified  at  the  prospect  before  them 
of  the  toil  required  to  attain  exactness.  The  impetuosity 
of  youth  is  disgusted  at  the  slow  approaches  of  a  regular 
siege,  and  desires,  from  mere  impatience  of  labor,  to  take 
the  citadel  by  storm.  They  wish  to  find  some  shorter  path 
to  excellence,  and  hope  to  obtain  the  reward  of  eminence 
by  other  means  than  those  which  the  indispensable  rules  of 
art  have  prescribed.  They  must,  therefore,  be  told  again 
and  again,  that  labor  is  the  only  price  of  solid  fame,  and 
that  whatever  their  force  of  genius  may  be,  there  is  no  easy 
method  of  becoming  a  good  painter. 

When  we  read  the  lives  of  the  most  eminent  painters, 


THE  FIRST  DISCOURSE. 


15 


every  page  informs  us  that  no  part  of  their  time  was  spent 
in  dissipation.  Even  an  increase  of  fame  served  only  to 
augment  their  industry.  To  be  convinced  with  what  per- 
severing assiduity  they  pursued  their  studies,  we  need  only 
reflect  on  their  method  of  proceeding  in  their  most  celebra- 
ted works.  When  they  conceived  a  subject,  they  first  made 
a  variety  of  sketches;  then  a  finished  drawing  of  the  whole; 
after  that  a  more  correct  drawing  of  every  separate  part — 
heads,  hands,  feet,  and  pieces  of  drapery ;  they  then  painted 
the  picture,  and  after  all,  retouched  it  from  the  life.  The 
pictures,  thus  wrought  with  such  pains,  now  appear  like  the 
effect  of  enchantment,  and  as  if  some  mighty  genius  had 
struck  them  off  at  a  blow. 

But,  whilst  diligence  is  thus  recommended  to  the  Stu- 
dents, the  Visiters  will  take  care  that  their  diligence  be 
effectual;  that  it  be  well  directed,  and  employed  on  the 
proper  object.  A  Student  is  not  always  advancing  because 
he  is  employed;  he  must  apply  his  strength  to  that  part  of 
the  art  where  the  real  difficulties  lie ;  to  that  part  which 
distinguishes  it  as  a  liberal  art ;  and  not  by  mistaken  indus- 
try lose  his  time  in  that  which  is  merely  ornamental.  The 
Students,  instead  of  vying  with  each  other  which  shall  have 
the  readiest  hand,  should  be  taught  to  contend  who  shall 
have  the  purest  and  most  correct  outline ;  instead  of  striv- 
ing which  shall  produce  the  brightest  tint,  or  curiously 
trifling,  shall  give  the  gloss  of  stuffs,  so  as  to  appear  real, 
let  their  ambition  be  directed  to  contend  which  shall  dis- 
pose his  drapery  in  the  most  graceful  folds,  which  shall  give 
the  most  grace  and  dignity  to  the  human  figure. 

I  must  beg  leave  to  submit  one  thing  more  to  the  con- 
sideration of  the  Visiters, -which  appears  to  me  a  matter  of 
very  great  consequence,  and  the  omission  of  which  I  think 


16 


THE  FIRST  DISCOURSE. 


a  principal  defect  in  the  method  of  education  pursued  in  all 
the  Academies  I  have  ever  visited.  The  error  I  mean  is, 
that  the  Students  never  draw  exactly  from  the  living  models 
which  they  have  before  them.  It  is  not,  indeed,  their  in- 
tention, nor  are  they  directed  to  do  it.  Their  drawings 
resemble  the  model  only  in  the  attitude.  They  change  the 
form  according  to  their  vague  and  uncertain  ideas  of  beau- 
ty, and  make  a  drawing  rather  of  what  they  think  the 
figure  ought  to  be,  than  of  what  it  appears.  I  have 
thought  this  the  obstacle  that  has  stopped  the  progress  of 
many  young  men  of  real  genius ;  and  I  very  much  doubt 
whether  a  habit  of  drawing  correctly  what  we  see  will  not 
give  a  proportionable  power  of  drawing  correctly  what  we 
imagine.  He  who  endeavors  to  copy  nicely  the  figure  before 
him,  not  only  acquires  a  habit  of  exactness  and  precision, 
but  is  continually  advancing  in  his  knowledge  of  the  human 
figure;  and  though  he  seems  to  superficial  observers  to 
make  a  slower  progress,  he  will  be  found  at  last  capable  of 
adding  (without  running  into  capricious  wildness)  that 
grace  and  beauty  which  is  necessary  to  be  given  to  his 
more  finished  works,  and  which  can  not  be  got  by  the  mod- 
erns, as  it  was  not  acquired  by  the  ancients,  but  by  an 
attentive  and  well  compared  study  of  the  human  form. 

What  I  think  ought  to  enforce  this  method  is,  that  it 
has  been  the  practice  (as  may  ]>e  seen  by  their  drawings) 
of  the  great  Masters  in  the  Art.  I  will  mention  a  drawing 
of  Kaffaelle,  The  Dispute  of  the  Sacrament,  the  print  of 
which,  by  Count  Cailus,  is  in  every  hand.  It  appears  that 
he  made  his  sketch  from  one  model;  and  the  habit  he  had 
of  drawing  exactly  from  the  form  before  him  appears  by 
his  making  all  the  figures  with  .the  same  cap,  such  as  his 
model  then  happened  to  wear;  so  servile  a  copyist  was  this 


THE  FIRST  DISCOURSE. 


17 


great  man,  even  at  a  time  when  he  was  allowed  to  be  at  his 
highest  pitch  of  excellence. 

I  have  seen  also  Academy  figures  by  Annibale  Caracci, 
though  he  was  often  sufficiently  licentious  in  his  finished 
works,  drawn  with  all  the  peculiarities  of  an  individual 
model. 

This  scrupulous  exactness  is  so  contrary  to  the  practice 
of  the  Academies,  that  it  is  not  without  great  deference, 
that  I  beg  leave  to  recommend  it  to  the  consideration  of 
the  Visiters;  and  submit  to  them,  whether  the  neglect  of 
this  method  is  not  one  of  the  reasons  why  Students  so 
often  disappoint  expectation,  and,  being  more  than  boys  at 
sixteen,  become  less  than  men  at  thirty. 

In  short,  the  method  I  recommend  can  only  be  detri- 
mental where  there  are  but  few  living  forms  to  copy;  for 
then  Students,  by  always  drawing  from  one  alone,  will  by 
habit  be  taught  to  overlook  defects,  and  mistake  deformity 
for  beauty.  But  of  this  there  is  no  danger;  since  the 
Council  has  determined  to  supply  the  Academy  with  a 
variety  of  subjects;  and  indeed  those  laws  which  they 
have  drawn  up,  and  which  the  Secretary  will  presently 
read  for  your  confirmation,  have  in  some  measure  precluded 
me  from  saying  more  upon  this  occasion.  Instead,  there- 
fore, of  offering  my  advice,  permit  me  to  indulge  my  wishes, 
and  express  my  hope,  that  this  Institution  may  answer  the 
expectation  of  its  Hoyal  Founder;  that  the  present  age 
may  vie  in  Arts  with  that  of  Leo  the  Tenth ;  and  that  the 
dignity  of  the  dying  Art  (to  make  use  of  an  expression  of 
Pliny)  may  be  revived  under  the  Ilcign  of  George  the 
Third. 


2* 


DISCOURSE  II. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  11,  1769. 

The  course  and  order  of  study. — The  different  stages  of  Art. — Much  copying  dis- 
countenanced.— The  Artist  at  all  times  and  in  all  places  should  be  employed 
in  laying  up  materials  for  the  exercise  of  his  Art. 

GENTLEMEN, 

I  congratulate  you  on  the  honor  which  you  have  just 
received.  I  have  the  highest  opinion  of  your  merits,  and 
could  wish  to  show  my  sense  of  them  in  something  which 
possibly  may  be  more  useful  to  you  than  barren  praise.  I 
could  wish  to  lead  you  into  such  a  course  of  study  as  may 
render  your  future  progress  answerable  to  your  past  im- 
provement; and  whilst  I  applaud  you  for  what  has  been 
done,  remind  you  how  much  yet  remains  to  attain  perfec- 
tion. 

I  flatter  myself,  that  from  the  long  experience  I  have 
had,  and  the  unceasing  assiduity  with  which  I  have  pur- 
sued those  studies,  in  which,  like  you,  I  have  been  en- 
gaged, I  shall  be  acquitted  of  vanity  in  offering  some  hints 
to  your  consideration.  They  are,  indeed,  in  a  great  degree, 
founded  upon  my  own  mistakes  in  the  same  pursuit.  But 
the  history  of  errors,  properly  managed,  often  shortens  the 
road  to  truth.  And  although  no  method  of  study,  that  I 
can  offer,  will  of  itself  conduct  to  excellence,  yet  it  may 
preserve  industry  from  being  misapplied. 

In^speaking  to  you  of  the  Theory  of  the  Art,  I  shall 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


10 


only  consider  it  as  it  has  a  relation  to  the  method  of  your 
studies. 

Dividing  the  study  of  painting  into  three  distinct  pe- 
riods, I  shall  address  you  as  having  passed  through  the 
first  of  them,  which  is  confined  to  the  rudiments;  includ- 
ing a  facility  of  drawing  any  object  that  presents  itself,  a 
tolerable  readiness  in  the  management  of  colors,  and  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  most  simple  and  obvious  rules  of  com- 
position. 

This  first  degree  of  proficiency  is,  in  painting,  what 
grammar  is  in  literature,  a  general  preparation  for  what- 
ever species  of  the  art  the  student  may  afterwards  choose 
for  his  more  particular  application.  The  power  of  draw- 
ing, modelling,  and  using  colors,  is  very  properly  called 
the  Language  of  the  Art;  and  in  this  language,  the  honors 
you  have  just  received  prove  you  to  have  made  no  incon- 
siderable progress. 

When  the  Artist  is  once  enabled  to  express  himself 
with  some  degree  of  correctness,  he  must  then  endeavor  to 
collect  subjects  for  expression ;  to  amass  a  stock  of  ideas, 
to  be  combined  and  varied  as  occasion  may  require.  He  is 
now  in  the  second  period  of  study,  in  which  his  business  is 
to  learn  all  that  has  been  known  and  done  before  his  own 
time.  Having  hitherto  received  instructions  from  a  par- 
ticular master,  he  is  now  to  consider  the  Art  itself  as  his 
master.  He  must  extend  his  capacity  to  more  sublime  and 
general  instructions.  Those  perfections  which  lie  scattered 
among  various  masters  are  now  united  in  one  general  idea, 
which  is  henceforth  to  regulate  his  taste,  and  enlarge  his 
imagination.  With  a  variety  of  models  thus  before  him, 
he  will  avoid  that  narrowness  and  poverty  of  conception 
which  attends  a  bigoted  admiration  of  a  single  master,  and 


20 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


will  cease  to  follow  any  favorite  where  he  ceases  to  excel. 
This  period  is,  however,  still  a  time  of  subjection  and  dis- 
cipline. Though  the  Student  will  not  resign  himself 
blindly  to  any  single  authority,  when  he  may  have  the 
advantage  of  consulting  many,  he  must  still  be  afraid  of 
trusting  his  own  judgment,  and  of  deviating  into  any  track 
where  he  can  not  find  the  footsteps  of  some  former  master. 

The  third  and  last  period  emancipates  the  Student  from 
subjection  to  any  authority,  but  what  he  shall  himself 
judge  to  be  supported  by  reason.  Confiding  now  in  his 
own  judgment,  he  will  consider  and  separate  those  different 
principles  to  which  different  modes  of  beauty  owe  their 
original.  In  the  former  period  he  sought  only  to  know 
and  combine  excellence,  wherever  it  was  to  be  found,  into 
one  idea  of  perfection :  in  this  he  learns,  what  requires  the 
most  attentive  survey,  and  the  most  subtle  disquisition,  to 
discriminate  perfections  that  are  incompatible  with  each 
other. 

He  is  from  this  time  to  regard  himself  as  holding  the 
same  rank  with  those  masters  whom  he  before  obeyed  as 
teachers;  and  as  exercising  a  sort  of  sovereignty  over 
those  rules  which  have  hitherto  restrained  him.  Compar- 
ing now  no  longer  the  performances  of  Art  with  each 
other,  but  examining  the  Art  itself  by  the  standard  of 
nature,  he  corrects  what  is  erroneous,  supplies  what  is 
scanty,  and  adds  by  his  own  observation  what  the  industry 
of  his  predecessors  may  have  yet  left  wanting  to  perfection. 
Having  well  established  his  judgment,  and  stored  his 
memory,  he  may  now  without  fear  try  the  power  of  his 
imagination.  The  mind  that  has  been  thus  disciplined 
may  be  indulged  in  the  warmest  enthusiasm,  and  venture 
to  play  on  the  borders  of  the  wildest  extravagance.  The 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


21 


habitual  dignity  which  long  converse  with  the  greatest 
minds  has  imparted  to  him  will  display  itself  in  all  his 
attempts;  and  he  will  stand  among  his  instructors,  not  as 
an  imitator,  but  a  rival. 

These  are  the  different  stages  of  the  Art.  But  as  I 
now  address  myself  particularly  to  those  Students  who  have 
been  this  day  rewarded  for  their  happy  passage  through  the 
first  period,  I  can  with  no  propriety  suppose  they  want  any 
help  in  the  initiatory  studies.  My  present  design  is  to 
direct  your  view  to  distant  excellence,  and  to  show  you  the 
readiest  path  that  leads  to  it.  Of  this  I  shall  speak  with 
such  latitude,  as  may  leave  the  province  of  the  professor 
uninvaded;  and  shall  not  anticipate  those  precepts,  which 
it  is  his  business  to  give,  and  your  duty  to  understand. 

It  is  indisputably  evident  that  a  great  part  of  every 
man's  life,  must  be  employed  in  collecting  materials  for  the 
exercise  of  genius.  Invention,  strictly  speaking,  is  little 
more  than  a  new  combination  of  those  images  which  have 
been  previously  gathered  and  deposited  in  the  memory: 
nothing  can  come  of  nothing:  he  who  has  laid  up  no  ma- 
terials can  produce  no  combinations. 

A  Student  unacquainted  with  the  attempts  of  former 
adventurers  is  always  apt  to  over-rate  his  own  abilities;  to 
mistake  the  most  trifling  excursions  for  discoveries  of  mo- 
ment, and  every  coast  new  to  him  for  a  new-found  country. 
If  by  chance  he  passes  beyond  his  usual  limits,  he  con- 
gratulates his  own  arrival  at  those  regions  which  they  who 
have  steered  a  better  course  have  long  left  behind  them. 

The  productions  of  such  minds  are  seldom  distin- 
guished by  an  air  of  originality :  they  are  anticipated  in 
their  happiest  efforts ;  and  if  they  are  found  to  differ  in 
any  thing  from  their  predecessors,  it  is  only  in  irregular 


22  THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 

sallies  and  trifling  conceits.  The  more  extensive,  there- 
fore, your  acquaintance  is  with  the  works  of  those  who 
have  excelled,  the  more  extensive  will  he  your  powers  of 
invention ;  and  what  may  appear  still  more  like  a  paradox, 
the  more  original  will  be  your  conceptions.  But  the  diffi- 
culty on  this  occasion  is  to  determine  what  ought  to  be 
proposed  as  models  of  excellence,  and  who  ought  to  be 
considered  as  the  properest  guides. 

To  a  young  man  just  arrived  in  Italy,  many  of  the 
present  painters  of  that  country  are  ready  enough  to 
obtrude  their  precepts,  and  to  offer  their  own  performances 
as  examples  of  that  perfection  which  they  affect  to  recom- 
mend. The  modern,  however,  who  recommends  himself 
as  a  standard,  may  justly  be  suspected  as  ignorant  of  the 
true  end,  and  unacquainted  with  the  proper  object,  of  the 
art  which  he  professes.  To  follow  such  a  guide  will  not 
only  retard  the  Student,  but  mislead  him. 

On  whom,  then,  can  he  rely,  or  who  shall  show  him  the 
path  that  leads  to  excellence?  The  answer  is  obvious: 
those  great  masters  who  have  travelled  the  same  road  with 
success  are  the  most  likely  to  conduct  others.  The  works 
of  those  who  have  stood  the  test  of  ages  have  a  claim  to 
that  respect  and  veneration  to  which  no  modern  can  pre- 
tend. The  duration  and  stability  of  their  fame  is  sufficient 
to-  evince  that  it  has  not  been  suspended  upon  the  slender 
thread  of  fashion  and  caprice,  but  bound  to  the  human 
heart  by  every  tie  of  sympathetic  approbation. 

There  is  no  danger  of  studying  too  much  the  works  of 
those  great  men :  but  how  they  may  be  studied  to  advan- 
tage is  an  inquiry  of  great  importance. 

Some  who  have  never  raised  their  minds  to  the  con- 
sideration of  the  real  dignity  of  the  Art,  and  who  rate  the 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


23 


works  of  an  Artist  in  proportion  as  they  excel  or  are  de- 
fective in  the  mechanical  parts,  look  on  theory  as  some- 
thing that  may  enable  them  to  talk  but  not  to  paint  better; 
and,  confining  themselves  entirely  to  mechanical  practice, 
very  assiduously  toil  on  in  the  drudgery  of  copying,  and 
think  they  make  a  rapid  progress  while  they  faithfully 
exhibit  the  minutest  part  of  a  favorite  picture.  This 
appears  to  me  a  very  tedious,  and,  I  think,  a  very  erroneous, 
method  of  proceeding.  Of  every  large  composition,  even 
of  those  which  are  most  admired,  a  great  part  may  be 
truly  said  to  be  common-place.  This,  though  it  takes  up 
much  time  in  copying,  conduces  little  to  improvement.  I 
consider  general  copying  as  a  delusive  kind  of  industry: 
the  Student  satisfies  himself  with  the  appearance  of  doing 
something :  he  falls  into  the  dangerous  habit  of  imitating 
without  selecting,  and  of  laboring  without  any  determinate 
object;  as  it  requires  no  effort  of  the  mind,  he  sleeps  over 
his  work :  and  those  powers  of  invention  and  composition 
which  ought  particularly  to  be  called  out,  and  put  in  action, 
lie  torpid,  and  lose  their  energy  for  want  of  exercise. 

How  incapable  those  are  of  producing  any  thing  of 
their  own,  who  have  spent  much  of  their  time  in  making 
finished  copies,  is  well  known  to  all  who  are  conversant 
with  our  art. 

To  suppose  that  the  complication  of  powers,  and  varie- 
ty of  ideas  necessary  to  that  mind  which  aspires  to  the  first 
honors  in  the  Art  of  Painting,  can  be  obtained  by  the 
frigid  contemplation  of  a  few  single  models,  is  no  less  ab- 
surd, than  it  would  be  in  him  who  wishes  to  be  a  poet,  to 
imagine  that  by  translating  a  tragedy  he  can  acquire  to 
himself  sufficient  knowledge  of  the  appearances  of  nature, 
the  operations  of  the  passions,  and  the  incidents  of  life. 


24 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


The  great  use  in  copying,  if  it  be  at  all  useful,  should 
seem  to  be  in  learning  to  color;  yet  even  coloring  will 
never  be  perfectly  attained  by  servilely  copying  the  model 
before  you.  An  eye  critically  nice  can  only  be  formed  by 
observing  well-colored  pictures  with  attention;  and  by 
close  inspection,  and  minute  examination,  you  will  discover, 
at  last,  the  manner  of  handling,  the  artifices  of  contrast, 
glazing,  and  other  expedients  by  which  good  colorists  have 
raised  the  value  of  their  tints,  and  by  which  nature  has 
been  so  happily  imitated. 

I  must  inform  you,  however,  that  old  pictures,  de- 
servedly celebrated  for  their  coloring,  are  often  so  changed 
by  dirt  and  varnish  that  we  ought  not  to  wonder  if  they  do 
not  appear  equal  to  their  reputation  in  the  eyes  of  unexpe- 
rienced painters,  or  young  Students.  An  artist  whose 
judgment  is  matured  by  long  observation  considers  rather 
what  the  picture  once  was,  than  what  it  is  at  present.  He 
has  by  habit  acquired  a  power  of  seeing  the  brilliancy 
of  tints  through  the  cloud  by  which  it  is  obscured.  An 
exact  imitation,  therefore,  of  those  pictures,  is  likely 
to  fill  the  Student's  mind  with  false  opinions,  and  to 
send  him  back  a  colorist  of  his  own  formation,  with 
ideas  equally  remote  from  nature  and  from  art,  from  the 
genuine  practice  of  the  masters  and  the  real  appearances 
of  things. 

Following  these  rules,  and  using  these  precautions, 
when  you  have  clearly  and  distinctly  learned  in  what 
good  coloring  consists,  you  can  not  do  better  than  to  have 
recourse  to  nature  herself,  who  is  always  at  hand,  and  in 
comparison  of  whose  true  splendor  the  best  colored  pic- 
tures are  but  faint  and  feeble. 

However,  as  the  practice  of  copying  is  not  entirely  to 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


25 


be  excluded,  since  the  mechanical  practice  of  painting  is 
learned  in  some  measure  by  it,  let  those  choice  parts  only 
be  selected  which  have  recommended  the  work  to  notice. 
If  its  excellence  consists  in  its  general  effect,  it  would  be 
proper  to  make  slight  sketches  of  the  machinery  and  gene- 
ral management  of  the  picture.  Those  sketches  should  be 
kept  always  by  you  for  the  regulation  of  your  style.  In 
stead  of  copying  the  touches  of  those  great  masters,  copy 
only  their  conceptions.  Instead  of  treading  in  their  foot- 
steps, endeavor  only  to  keep  the  same  road.  Labor  to 
invent  on  their  general  principles  and  way  of  thinking. 
Possess  yourself  with  their  spirit.  Consider  with  yourself 
how  a  Michael  Angelo  or  a  Raffaelle  would  have  treated 
this  subject;  and  work  yourself  into  a  belief  that  your 
picture  is  to  be  seen  and  criticised  by  them  when  com- 
pleted. Even  an  attempt  of  this  kind  will  rouse  your 
powers. 

But  as  mere  enthusiasm  will  carry  you  but  a  little  way, 
let  me  recommend  a  practice  that  may  be  equivalent  to 
and  will  perhaps  more  efficaciously  contribute  to  your  ad- 
vancement, than  even  the  verbal  corrections  of  those  masters 
themselves,  could  they  be  obtained.  What  I  would  propose 
is,  that  you  should  enter  into  a  kind  of  competition,  by  paint- 
ing a  similar  subject,  and  making  a  companion  to  any  pic- 
ture that  you  consider  as  a  model.  After  you  have  finished 
your  work,  place  it  near  the  model,  and  compare  them  care- 
fully together.  You  will  then  not  only  see  but  feel  your 
own  deficiencies  more  sensibly  than  by  precepts,  or  any  other 
means  of  instruction.  The  true  principles  of  painting  will 
mingle  with  your  thoughts.  Ideas  thus  fixed  by  sensible 
objects  will  be  certain  and  definitive ;  and,  sinking  deep  into 
the  mind,  will  not  only  be  more  just  but  more  lasting  than 
3 


26 


THE  SECOND  E'ISCCVBtiZ. 


those  presented  to  you  by  precepts  only,  which  will  always 
be  fleeting,  variable,  and  undetermined. 

This  method  of  comparing  your  own  efforts  with  those 
of  some  great  master  is  indeed  a  severe  and  mortifying 
task,  to  which  none  will  submit  but  such  as  have  great 
views,  with  fortitude  sufficient  to  forego  the  gratifications 
of  present  vanity  for  future  honor.  When  the  Student 
has  succeeded  in  some  measure  to  his  own  satisfaction, 
and  has  felicitated  himself  on  his  success,  to  go  voluntary 
to  a  tribunal  where  he  knows  his  vanity  must  be  humbled, 
and  all  self-approbation  must  vanish,  requires  not  only 
great  resolution  but  great  humility.  To  him,  however, 
who  has  the  ambition  to  be  a  real  master,  the  solid  satis- 
faction which  proceeds  from  a  consciousness  of  his  advance- 
ment (of  which  seeing  his  own  faults  is  the  first  step)  will 
very  abundantly  compensate  for  the  mortification  of  pre- 
sent disappointment.  There  is,  besides,  this  alleviating 
circumstance  :  every  discovery  he  makes,  every  acquisition 
of  knowledge  he  attains,  seems  to  proceed  from  his  own 
sagacity:  and  thus  he  acquires  a  confidence  in  himself 
sufficient  to  keep  up  the  resolution  of  perseverance. 

We  all  must  have  experienced  how  lazily,  and,  conse- 
quently, how  ineffectually,  instruction  is  received  when 
forced  upon  the  mind  by  others.  Few  have  been  taught 
to  any  purpose  who  have  not  been  their  own  teachers.  We 
prefer  those  instructions  which  we  have  given  ourselves, 
from  our  affection  to  the  instructor;  and  they  are  more 
effectual,  from  being  received  into  the  mind  at  the  very 
time  when  it  is  most  open  and  eager  to  receive  them. 

With  respect  to  the  pictures  that  you  are  to  choose 
for  your  models,  I  could  wish  that  you  would  take  the 
world's  opinion  rather  than  your  own.    In  other  words, 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


27 


I  would  have  you  choose  those  of  established  reputation 
rather  than  follow  your  own  fancy.  If  you  should  not 
admire  them  at  first,  you  will,  by  endeavoring  to  imitate 
them,  find  that  the  world  has  not  been  mistaken. 

It  is  not  an  easy  task  to  point  out  those  various  ex- 
cellencies for  your  imitation  which  lie  distributed  amongst 
the  various  schools.  An  endeavor  to  do  this  may,  perhaps, 
be  the  subject  of  some  future  discourse.  I  will,  therefore, 
at  present,  only  recommend  a  model  for  style  in  painting, 
which  is  a  branch  of  the  art  more  immediately  necessary 
to  the  young  Student.  Style  in  painting  is  the  same  as 
in  writing,  a  power  over  materials,  whether  words  or 
colors,  by  which  conceptions  or  sentiments  are  conveyed. 
And  in  this  Ludovico  Caracci  (I  mean  his  best  works) 
appears  to  me  to  approach  the  nearest  to  perfection.  His 
unaffected  breadth  of  light  and  shadow,  the  simplicity  of 
coloring,  which,  holding  its  proper  rank,  does  not  draw 
aside  the  least  part  of  the  attention  from  the  subject,  and 
the  solemn  effect  of  that  twilight  which  seems  diffused  over 
his  pictures,  appear  to  me  to  correspond  with  grave  and 
dignified  subjects,  better  than  the  more  artificial  brilliancy 
of  sunshine  which  enlightens  the  pictures  of  Titian ;  though 
Tintoret  thought  that  Titian's  coloring  was  the  model  of 
perfection,  and  would  correspond  even  with  the  sublime  of 
Michael  Angelo;  and  that  if  Angelo  had  colored  like 
Titian,  or  Titian  designed  like  Angelo,  the  world  would 
once  have  had  a  perfect  painter. 

It  is"  our  misfortune,  however,  that  those  works  of  Ca- 
racci, which  I  would  recommend  to  the  Student,  are  not 
often  found  out  of  Bologna.  The  St.  Francis  in  the  Midst 
of  Ms  Friars,  The  Transfiguration,  The  Birth  of  St.  John 
the  Baptist,  The  Calling  of  St.  Matthew,  The  St.  Jerome, 


28 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


The  Fresco  Paintings  in  the  Zampieri  palace,  are  all  wor- 
thy the  attention  of  the  Student.  And  I  think  those  who 
travel  would  do  well  to  allot  a  much  greater  portion  of 
their  time  to  that  city  than  it  has  been  hitherto  the 
custom  to  bestow. 

In  this  art,  as  in  others,  there  are  many  teachers  who 
profess  to  show  the  nearest  way  to  excellence ;  and  many 
expedients  have  been  invented  by  which  the  toil  of  study 
might  be  saved.  But  let  no  man  be  seduced  to  idleness 
by  specious  promises.  Excellence  is  never  granted  to  man, 
but  as  the  reward  of  labor.  It  argues,  indeed,  no  small 
strength  of  mind  to  persevere  in  habits  of  industry,  with- 
out the  pleasure  of  perceiving  those  advances ;  which,  like 
the  hand  of  a  clock,  whilst  they  make  hourly  approaches 
to  their  point,  yet  proceed  so  slowly  as  to  escape  observa- 
tion. A  facility  of  drawing,  like  that  of  playing  upon  a 
musical  instrument,  can  not  be  acquired  but  by  an  infinite 
number  of  acts.  I  need  not,  therefore,  enforce  by  many 
words  the  necessity  of  continual  application ;  nor  tell  you 
that  the  port-crayon  ought  to  be  for  ever  in  your  hands. 
Various  methods  will  occur  to  you  by  which  this  power 
may  be  acquired.  I  would  particularly  recommend,  that 
after  your  return  from  the  Academy  (where  I  suppose  your 
attendance  to  be  constant)  you  would  endeavor  to  draw 
the  figure  by  memory.  I  will  even  venture  to  add,  that 
by  perseverance  in  this  custom  you  will  become  able  to 
draw  the  human  figure  tolerably  correct,  with  as  little  effort 
of  the  mind  as  is  required  to  trace  with  a  pen  the  letters 
of  the  alphabet. 

That  this  facility  is  not  unattainable,  some  members 
in  this  Academy  give  a  sufficient  proof.  And  be  assured, 
that,  if  this  power  is  not  acquired  whilst  you  are  young, 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


29 


there  will  be  no  time  for  it  afterwards ;  at  least  the  attempt 
will  be  attended  with  as  much  difficulty  as  those  experience 
who  learn  to  read  or  write  after  they  have  arrived  at  the 
age  of  maturity. 

But  while  I  mention  the  port-crayon  as  the  Student's 
constant  companion,  he  must  still  remember,  that  the  pencil 
is  the  instrument  by  which  he  must  hope  to  obtain  emi- 
nence. What,  therefore,  I  wish  to  impress  upon  you  is, 
that,  whenever  an  opportunity  offers,  you  paint  your  stu- 
dies instead  of  drawing  them.  This  will  give  you  such  a 
facility  in  using  colors,  that  in  time  they  will  arrange 
themselves  under  the  pencil,  even  without  the  attention 
of  the  hand  that  conducts  it.  If  one  act  excluded  the 
other,  this  advice  could  not  with  any  propriety  be  given. 
But  if  painting  comprises  both  drawing  and  coloring,  and 
if  by  a  short  struggle  of  resolute  industry,  the  same  ex- 
pedition is  attainable  in  painting  as  in  drawing  on  paper, 
I  can  not  see  what  objection  can  justly  be  made  to  the 
practice,  or  why  that  should  be  done  by  parts  which  may 
be  done  altogether. 

If  we  turn  our  eyes  to  the  several  Schools  of  Painting, 
and  consider  their  respective  excellencies,  we  shall  find 
that  those  who  excel  most  in  coloring  pursued  this  method. 
The  Venetian  and  Flemish  schools,  which  owe  much  of 
their  fame  to  coloring,  have  enriched  the  cabinets  of  the 
collectors  of  drawings  with  very  few  examples.  Those  of 
Titian,  Paul  Veronese,  Tintoret,  and  the  Bassans,  arc  in 
general  slight  and  undetermined.  Their  sketches  on  paper 
are  as  rude  as  their  pictures  are  excellent  in  regard  to 
harmony  of  coloring.  Correggio  and  Baroccio  have  left 
few,  if  any,  finished  drawings  behind  them.  And  in  the 
Flemish  school,  Rubens  and  Vandyck  made  their  designs 
3* 


30 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


for  the  most  part  either  in  colors  or  in  chiaro-oscuro.  It 
is  as  common  to  find  studies  of  the  Venetian  and  Flemish 
Painters  on  canvass  as  of  the  schools  of  Rome  and  Florence 
on  paper.  Not  but  that  many  finished  drawings  are  sold 
under  the  names  of  those  masters.  Those,  however,  are 
undoubtedly  the  productions  either  of  engravers  or  their 
scholars,  who  copied  their  works. 

These  instructions  I  have  ventured  to  offer  from  my 
own  experience ;  but  as  they  deviate  widely  from  received 
opinions,  I  offer  them  with  diffidence,  and  when  better  are 
suggested  shall  retract  them  without  regret. 

There  is  one  precept,  however,  in  which  I  shall  only 
be  opposed  by  the  vain,  the  ignorant,  and  the  idle.  I  am 
not  afraid  that  I  shall  repeat  it  too  often.  You  must  have 
no  dependence  on  your  own  genius.  If  you  have  great 
talents,  industry  will  improve  them :  if  you  have  but 
moderate  abilities,  industry  will  supply  their  deficiency. 
Nothing  is  denied  to  well  directed  labor :  nothing  is  to  be 
obtained  without  it.  Not  to  enter  into  metaphysical  dis- 
cussions on  the  nature  or  essence  of  genius,  I  will  venture 
to  assert,  that  assiduity  unabated  by  difficulty,  and  a  dis- 
position eagerly  directed  to  the  object  of  its  pursuit,  will 
produce  effects  similar  to  those  which  some  call  the  result 
of  natural  powers. 

Though  a  man  can  not  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places, 
paint  or  draw,  yet  the  mind  can  prepare  itself  by  laying 
in  proper  materials,  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places.  Both 
Livy  and  Plutarch,  in  describing  Philopoemen,  one  of  the 
ablest  generals  of  antiquity,  have  given  us  a  striking  pic- 
ture of  a  mind  always  intent  on  its  profession,  and  by 
assiduity  obtaining  those  excellencies  which  some  all  their 
lives  vainly  expect  from  nature.    I  shall  quote  the  passage 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


31 


in  Livy  at  length,  as  it  runs  parallel  with  the  practice  I 
would  recommend  to  the  Painter,  the  Sculptor  and  Architect. 

"  Philopcemen  was  a  man  eminent  for  his  sagacity  and 
experience  in  choosing  ground,  and  in  leading  armies ;  to 
which  he  formed  his  mind  by  perpetual  meditation,  in 
times  of  peace  as  well  as  war.  When,  in  any  occasional 
journey,  he  came  to  a  strait,  difficult  passage,  if  he  was 
alone,  he  considered  with  himself,  and  if  he  was  in  com- 
pany he  asked  his  friends,  what  it  would  be  best  to  do 
if  in  this  place  they  had  found  an  enemy,  either  in  the 
front  or  in  the  rear,  on  the  one  side  or  on  the  other  ? 
<  It  might  happen/  says  he,  1  that  the  enemy  to  be  opposed 
might  come  on  drawn  up  in  regular  lines,  or  in  a  tumultu- 
ous body  formed  only  by  the  nature  of  the  place/  He 
then  considered  a  little  what  ground  he  should  take ;  what 
number  of  soldiers  he  should  use,  and  what  arms  he 
should  give  them;  where  he  should  lodge  his  carriages, 
his  baggage,  and  the  defenseless  followers  of  his  camp; 
how  many  guards,  and  of  what  kind,  he  should  send  to 
defend  them :  and  whether  it  would  be  better  to  press 
forward  along  the  pass,  or  recover  by  retreat  his  former 
station  :  he  would  consider  likewise  where  his  camp  could 
most  coramodiously  be  formed;  how  much  ground  he 
should  enclose  within  his  trenches;  where  he  should  have 
the  convenience  of  water,  and  where  he  might  find  plenty 
of  wood  and  forage;  and  when  he  should  break  up  his 
camp  on  the  following  day,  through  what  road  he  could 
most  safely  pass,  and  in  what  form  he  should  dispose  his 
troops.  With  such  thoughts  and  disquisitions  he  had 
from  his  early  years  so  exercised  his  mind,  that  on  these 
occasions  nothing  could  happen  which  he  had  not  already 
been  accustomed  to  consider." 


32 


THE  SECOND  DISCOURSE. 


I  can  not  help  imagining  that  I  see  a  promising  young 
painter  equally  vigilant,  whether  at  home  or  abroad,  in 
the  streets  or  in  the  fields.  Every  object  that  presents 
itself  is  to  him  a  lesson.  He  regards  all  nature  with  a 
view  to  his  profession,  and  combines  her  beauties,  or  cor- 
rects her  defects.  He  examines  the  countenance  of  men 
under  the  influence  of  passion ;  and  often  catches  the  most 
pleasing  hints  from  subjects  of  turbulence  or  deformity. 
Even  bad  pictures  themselves  supply  him  with  useful 
documents;  and,  as  Lionardo  da  Vinci  has  observed,  he 
improves  upon  the  fanciful  images  that  are  sometimes  seen 
in  the  fire,  or  are  accidentally  sketched  upon  a  discolored 
wall. 

The  Artist  who  has  his  mind  thus  filled  with  ideas,  and 
his  hand  made  expert  by  practice,  works  with  ease  and 
readiness ;  whilst  he  who  would  have  you  believe  that  he 
is  waiting  for  the  inspirations  of  G-enius,  is  in  reality  at 
a  loss  how  to  begin ;  and  is  at  last  delivered  of  his  monsters 
with  difficulty  and  pain. 

The  well-grounded  painter,  on  the  contrary,  has  only 
maturely  to  consider  his  subject,  and  all  the  mechanical 
parts  of  his  art  follow  without  his  exertion.  Conscious  of 
the  difficulty  of  obtaining  what  he  possesses,  he  makes  no 
pretensions  to  secrets,  except  those  of  closer  application. 
Without  conceiving  the  smallest  jealousy  against  others, 
he  is  contented  that  all  shall  be  as  great  as  himself  who 
have  undergone  the  same  fatigue;  and  as  his  pre-eminence 
depends  not  upon  a  trick,  he  is  free  from  the  painful  sus- 
picions of  a  juggler  who  lives  in  perpetual  fear  lest  his 
trick  should  be  discovered. 


DISCOURSE  III. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Frizes,  December  14,  1770. 

The  great  leading  principles  of  the  grand  style. — Of  beauty. — The  genuine  habits 
of  nature  to  be  distinguished  from  those  of  fashion. 

GENTLEMEN, 

It  is  not  easy  to  speak  with  propriety  to  so  many  Stu- 
dents of  different  ages  and  different  degrees  of  advance- 
ment. The  mind  requires  nourishment  adapted  to  its 
growth ;  and  what  may  have  promoted  our  earlier  efforts 
might  retard  us  in  our  nearer  approaches  to  perfection. 

The  first  endeavors  of  a  young  painter,  as  I  have  re- 
marked in  a  former  discourse,  must  be  employed  in  the 
attainment  of  mechanical  dexterity,  and  confined  to  the 
mere  imitation  of  the  object  before  him.  Those  who  have 
advanced  beyond  the  rudiments,  may,  perhaps,  find  advan- 
tage in  reflecting  on  the  advice  which  I  have  likewise  given 
them,  when  I  recommended  the  diligent  study  of  the  works 
of  our  great  predecessors;  but  I  at  the  same  time  endea- 
vored to  guard  them  against  an  implicit  submission  to  the 
authority  of  any  one  master  however  excellent,  or,  by  a 
strict  imitation  of  his  manner,  precluding  themselves  from 
the  abundance  and  variety  of  Nature.  I  will  now  add, 
that  Nature  herself  is  not  to  be  too  closely  copied.  There 
are  excellencies  in  the  art  of  painting  beyond  what  is  com- 
monly called  the  imitation  of  Nature ;  and  these  excellen- 
cies I  wish  to  point  out.   The  Students  who,  having  passed 


34 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


through  the  initiatory  exercises,  are  more  advanced  in  the 
art,  and  who,  sure  of  their  hand,  have  leisure  to  exert 
their  understanding,  must  now  be  told,  that  a  mere  copier 
of  nature  can  never  produce  any  thing  great ;  can  never 
raise  and  enlarge  the  conceptions,  or  warm  the  heart  of 
the  spectator. 

The  wish  of  the  genuine  painter  must  be  more  exten- 
sive :  instead  of  endeavoring  to  amuse  mankind  with  the 
minute  neatness  of  his  imitations,  he  must  endeavor  to 
improve  them  by  the  grandeur  of  his  ideas;  instead  of 
seeking  praise,  by  deceiving  the  superficial  sense  of  the 
spectator,  he  must  strive  for  fame,  by  captivating  the  im- 
agination. 

The  principle  now  laid  down,  that  the  perfection  of  this 
art  does  not  consist  in  mere  imitation,  is  far  from  being 
new  or  singular.  It  is,  indeed,  supported  by  the  general 
opinion  of  the  enlightened  part  of  mankind.  The  poets, 
orators,  and  rhetoricians  of  antiquity,  are  continually  en- 
forcing this  position — that  all  the  arts  receive  their  perfec- 
tion from  an  ideal  beauty,  superior  to  what  is  to  be  found 
in  individual  nature.  They  are  ever  referring  to  the  prac- 
tice of  the  painters  and  sculptors  of  their  times,  particu- 
larly Phidias  (the  favorite  artist  of  antiquity)  to  illustrate 
their  assertions.  As  if  they  could  not  sufficiently  express 
their  admiration  of  his  genius  by  what  they  knew,  they 
have  recourse  to  poetical  enthusiasm :  they  call  it  inspira- 
tion ;  a  gift  from  heaven.  The  artist  is  supposed  to  have 
ascended  the  celestial  regions,  to  furnish  his  mind  with 
this  perfect  idea  of  beauty.  "  He,"  says  Proclus,*  *  who 
takes  for  his  model  such  forms  as  Nature  produces,  and 

*Lib.  2  in  Timaeum  Platonis,  as  cited  by  Junius  de  Pictura 
Veterum. — R 


THE  TIIIHD  DISCOURSE. 


35 


confines  himself  to  an  exact  imitation  of  them,  will  never 
attain  to  what  is  perfectly  beautiful.  For  the  works  of 
Nature  are  full  of  disproportion,  and  fall  very  short  of  the 
true  standard  of  beauty.  So  that  Phidias,  when  he 
formed  his  Jupiter,  did  not  copy  any  object  ever  presented 
to  his  sight,  but  contemplated  only  that  image  which  he 
had  conceived  in  his  mind  from  Homer's  description." 
And  thus  Cicero,  speaking  of  the  same  Phidias: — 
"  Neither  did  this  artist,"  says  he,  U  when  he  carved  the 
image  of  Jupiter  or  Minerva,  set  before  him  any  one  hu- 
man figure,  as  a  pattern,  which  he  was  to  copy ;  but  having 
a  more  perfect  idea  of  beauty  fixed  in  his  mind,  this  is 
steadily  contemplated,  and  to  the  imitation  of  this,  all  his 
skill  and  labor  were  directed." 

The  Moderns  are  not  less  convinced  than  the  Ancients 
of  this  superior  power  existing  in  the  art;  nor  less  sensible 
of  its  effects.  Every  language  has  adopted  terms  expres- 
sive of  this  excellence.  The  gusto  grande  of  the  Italians, 
the  beau  ideal  of  the  French,  and  the  great  style,  genius, 
and  taste  among  the  English,  are  but  different  appellations 
of  the  same  thing.  It  is  this  intellectual  dignity,  they 
say,  that  ennobles  the  Painter's  art;  that  lays  the  line 
between  him  and  the  mere  mechanic ;  and  produces  those 
great  effects  in  an  instant,  which  eloquence  and  poetry,  by 
slow  and  repeated  efforts,  are  scarcely  able  to  attain. 

Such  is  the  warmth  with  which  both  the  Ancients  and 
Moderns  speak  of  this  divine  principle  of  the  art;  but,  as 
I  have  formerly  observed,  enthusiastic  admiration  seldom 
promotes  knowledge.  Though  a  Student  by  such  praise 
may  have  his  attention  roused,  and  a  desire  excited,  of 
running  in  this  great  career,  yet  it  is  possible  that  what 
has  been  said  to  excite,  may  only  serve  to  deter  him.  He 


36 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


examines  his  own  mind,  and  perceives  there  nothing  of 
that  divine  inspiration  with  which  he  is  told  so  many 
others  have  been  favored.  He  never  travelled,  to  heaven 
to  gather  new  ideas ;  and  he  finds  himself  possessed  of  no 
other  qualifications  than  what  mere  common  observation 
and  a  plain  understanding  can  confer.  Thus  he  becomes 
gloomy  amidst  the  splendor  of  figurative  declamation,  and 
thinks  it  hopeless  to  pursue  an  object  which  he  supposes 
out  of  the  reach  of  human  industry. 

But  on  this,  as  upon  many  other  occasions,  we  ought  to 
distinguish  how  much  is  to  be  given  to  enthusiasm, 
and  how  much  to  reason.  We  ought  to  allow  for,  and  we 
ought  to  commend,  that  strength  of  vivid  expression, 
which  is  necessary  to  convey,  in  its  full  force,  the  highest 
sense  of  the  most  complete  effect  of  art )  taking  care,  at 
the  same  time,  not  to  lose  in  terms  of  vague  admiration 
that  solidity  and  truth  of  principle  upon  which  alone  we 
can  reason,  and  may  be  enabled  to  practice. 

It  is  not  easy  to  define  in  what  this  great  style  consists ; 
nor  to  describe,  by  words,  the  proper  means  of  acquiring 
it,  if  the  mind  of  the  Student  should  be  at  all  capable  of 
such  an  acquisition.  Could  we  teach  taste  or  genius  by 
rules,  they  would  be  no  longer  taste  and  genius.  But 
though  there  neither  are,  nor  can  be  any  precise  invariable 
rules  for  the  exercise,  or  the  acquisition,  of  these  great 
qualities,  yet  we  may  truly  say,  that  they  always  operate 
in  proportion  to  our  attention  in  observing  the  works  of 
Nature,  to  our  skill  in  selecting,  and  to  our  care  in  digest- 
ing, methodizing,  and  comparing  our  observations.  There 
are  many  beauties  in  our  art  that  seem,  at  first,  to  lie 
without  the  reach  of  precept,  and  yet  may  easily  be 
reduced  to  practical  principles.    Experience  is  all  in  all : 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


37 


but  it  is  not  every  one  wbo  profits  by  experience;  and 
most  people  err,  not  so  much  from  want  of  capacity  to  find 
their  object,  as  from  not  knowing  what  object  to  pursue. 
This  great  ideal  perfection  and  beauty  are  not  to  be  sought 
in  the  heavens,  but  upon  the  earth.  They  are  about  us, 
and  upon  every  side  of  us.  But  the  power  of  discovering 
what  is  deformed  in  nature,  or,  in  other  words,  what  is 
particular  and  uncommon,  can  be  acquired  only  by  experi- 
ence; and  the  whole  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the  art  con- 
sists, in  my  opinion,  in  being  able  to  get  above  all  singular 
forms,  local  customs,  particularities,  and  details  of  every 
kind. 

All  the  objects  which  are  exhibited  to  our  view  by 
Nature,  upon  close  examination  will  be  found  to  have  their 
blemishes  and  defects.  The  most  beautiful  forms  have 
something  about  them  like  weakness,  minuteness,  or  im- 
perfection. But  it  is  not  every  eye  that  perceives  these 
blemishes.  It  must  be  an  eye  long  used  to  the  contempla- 
tion and  comparison  of  these  forms;  and  which,  by  a  long 
habit  of  observing  what  any  set  of  objects  of  the  same 
kind  have  in  common,  has  acquired  the  power  of  discern- 
ing what  each  wants  in  particular.  This  long,  laborious 
comparison  should  be  the  first  study  of  the  painter  who 
aims  at  the  great  style.  By  this  means,  he  acquires  a  just 
idea  of  beautiful  forms;  he  corrects  Nature  by  herself,  her 
imperfect  state  by  her  more  perfect.  His  eye  being 
enabled  to  distinguish  the  accidental  deficiencies,  excres- 
cences, and  deformities  of  things,  from  their  general 
figures,  he  makes  out  an  abstract  idea  of  their  forms  more 
perfect  than  any  one  original  ;  and  what  may  seem  a  para- 
dox, he  learns  to  design  naturally  by  drawing  his  figures 
unlike  to  any  one  object.  This  idea  of  the  perfect  state  of 
4 


38 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


Nature,  which  the  artist  calls  the  Ideal  beauty,  is  the  great 
leading  principle  by  which  works  of  genius  are  conducted. 
By  this  Phidias  acquired  his  fame.  He  wrought  upon  a 
sober  principle  what  has  so  much  excited  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  world ;  and  by  this  method  you,  who  have  courage 
to  tread  the  same  path,  may  acquire  equal  reputation. 

This  is  the  idea  which  has  acquired,  and  which  seems 
to  have  a  right  to,  the  epithet  of  divine  ;  as  it  may  be  said 
to  preside,  like  a  supreme  judge,  over  all  the  productions 
of  Nature,  appearing  to  be  possessed  of  the  will  and  inten- 
tion of  the  Creator,  as  far  as  they  regard  the  external  form 
of  living  beings.  When  a  man  once  possesses  this  idea  in 
its  perfection,  there  is  no  danger  but  that  he  will  be  suffi- 
ciently warmed  by  it  himself,  and  be  able  to  warm  and 
ravish  every  one  else. 

Thus  it  is  from  a  reiterated  experience,  and  a  close 
comparison  of  the  objects  in  Nature,  that  an  artist  becomes 
possessed  of  the  idea  of  that  central  form,  if  I  may  so  ex- 
press it,  from  which  every  deviation  is  deformity.  But  the 
investigation  of  this  form,  I  grant,  is  painful,  and  I  know 
but  of  one  method  of  shortening  the  road;  this  is,  by  a 
careful  study  of  the  works  of  the  ancient  sculptors;  who, 
being  indefatigable  in  the  school  of  Nature,  have  left 
models  of  that  perfect  form  behind  them,  which  an  artist 
would  prefer  as  supremely  beautiful,  who  had  spent  his 
whole  life  in  that  single  contemplation.  But  if  industry 
carried  them  thus  far,  may  not  you  also  hope  for  the  same 
reward  from  the  same  labor?  "We  have  the  same  school 
opened  to  us  that  was  opened  to  them ;  for  Nature  denies 
her  instructions  to  none  who  desire  to  become  her  pupils. 

This  laborious  investigation,  I  am  aware,  must  appear 
superfluous  to  those  who  think  every  thing  is  to  be  done 


THE   THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


39 


by  felicity  and  the  powers  of  native  genius.  Even  the 
great  Bacon  treats  with  ridicule  the  idea  of  confining  pro- 
portion to  rules,  or  of  producing  beauty  by  selection.  "  A 
man  can  not  tell,"  says  he,  "whether  Apelles  or  Albert 
Durer  were  the  more  trifler :  whereof  the  one  would  make 
a  personage  by  geometrical  proportions;  the  other,  by 
taking  the  best  parts  out  of  divers  faces,  to  make  one  ex- 
cellent. .  .  .  The  painter,"  he  adds,  "must  do  it  by  a 
kind  of  felicity  ....  and  not  by  rule."* 

It  is  not  safe  to  question  any  opinion  of  so  great  a 
writer,  and  so  profound  a  thinker,  as  undoubtedly  Bacon 
was.  But  he  studies  brevity  to  excess ;  and  therefore  his 
meaning  is  sometimes  doubtful.  If  he  means  that  beauty 
has  nothing  to  do  with  rule,  he  is  mistaken.  There  is  a 
rule,  obtained  out  of  general  nature,  to  contradict  which 
is  to  fall  into  deformity.  Whenever  any  thing  is  done  be- 
yond this  rule,  it  is  in  virtue  of  some  other  rule  which  is 
followed  along  with  it,  but  which  does  not  contradict  it. 
Every  thing  which  is  wrought  with  certainty,  it  is  wrought 
upon  some  principle.  If  it  is  not,  it  can  not  be  repeated. 
If  by  felicity  is  meant  any  thing  of  chance  or  hazard,  or 
something  born  with  a  man,  and  not  earned,  I  can  not 
agree  with  this  great  philosopher.  Every  object  which 
pleases  must  give  us  pleasure  upon  some  certain  principles: 
but  as  the  objects  of  pleasure  are  almost  infinite,  so  their 
principles  vary  without  end,  and  every  man  finds  them  out, 
not  by  felicity  or  successful  hazard,  but  by  care  and  sagacity. 

To  the  principle  I  have  laid  down,  that  the  idea  of 
beauty  in  each  species  of  beings  is  an  invariable  one,  it 
may  be  objected,  that  in  every  particular  species  there  are 
various  central  forms,  which  are  separate  and  distinct  from 

*  Essays,  p.  252,  edit.  1625. 


40 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


each  other,  and  yet  are  undeniably  beautiful ;  that  in  the 
human  figure,  for  instance,  the  beauty  of  Hercules  is  one, 
of  the  Gladiator  another,  of  the  Apollo  another;  which 
makes  so  many  different  ideas  of  beauty. 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  these  figures  are  each  perfect  in 
their  kind,  though  of  different  characters  and  proportions ; 
but  still  none  of  them  is  the  representation  of  an  indi- 
vidual, but  of  a  class.  And  as  there  is  one  general  form, 
which,  as  I  have  said,  belongs  to  the  human  kind  at  large, 
so  in  each  of  these  classes  there  is  one  common  idea  and 
central  form,  which  is  the  abstract  of  the  various  individ- 
ual forms  belonging  to  that  class.  Thus,  though  the  forms 
of  childhood  and  age  differ  exceedingly,  there  is  a  common 
form  in  childhood,  and  a  common  form  in  age,  which  is 
the  more  perfect,  as  it  is  more  remote  from  all  peculiarities. 
But  I  must  add  further,  that  though  the  most  perfect  forms 
of  each  of  the  general  divisions  of  the  human  figure  are 
ideal  and  superior  to  any  individual  form  of  that  class; 
yet  the  highest  perfection  of  the  human  figure  is  not  to  be 
found  in  any  one  of  them.  It  is  not  in  the  Hercules,  nor 
in  the  Gladiator,  nor  in  the  Apollo;  but  in  that  form 
which  is  taken  from  all,  and  which  partakes  equally  of 
the  activity  of  the  Gladiator,  of  the  delicacy  of  the  Apollo, 
and  of  the  muscular  strength  of  the  Hercules.  For  perfect 
beauty  in  any  species  must  combine  all  the  characters 
which  are  beautiful  in  that  species.  It  can  not  consist  in 
any  one  to  the  exclusion  of  the  rest :  no  one,  therefore, 
must  be  predominant,  that  no  one  may  be  deficient. 

The  knowledge  of  these  different  characters,  and  the 
power  of  separating  and  distinguishing  them,  is  undoubted- 
ly necessary  to  the  painter,  who  is  to  vary  his  compositions 
with  figures  of  various  forms  and  proportions,  though  he  is 


TIIE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


41 


never  to  lose  sight  of  the  general  idea  of  perfection  in 
each  kind. 

There  is,  likewise,  a  kind  of  symmetry,  or  proportion, 
which  may  properly  be  said  to  belong  to  deformity.  A 
figure  lean  or  corpulent,  tall  or  short,  though  deviating 
from  beauty,  may  still  have  a  certain  union  of  the  various 
parts,  which  may  contribute  to  make  them  on  the  whole 
not  unpleasing. 

When  the  Artist  has  by  diligent  attention  acquired  a 
clear  and  distinct  idea  of  beauty  and  symmetry;  when  he 
has  reduced  the  variety  of  nature  to  the  abstract  idea;  his 
next  task  will  be  to  become  acquainted  with  the  genuine 
habits  of  nature,  as  distinguished  from  those  of  fashion. 
For  in  the  same  manner,  and  on  the  same  principles,  as  he 
has  acquired  the  knowledge  of  the  real  forms  of  nature, 
distinct  from  accidental  deformity,  he  must  endeavor  to 
separate  simple  chaste  nature,  from  those  adventitious, 
those  affected  and  forced  airs  or  actions,  with  which  she  is 
loaded  by  modern  education. 

Perhaps  I  can  not  better  explain  what  I  mean,  than  by 
reminding  you  of  what  was  taught  us  by  the  Professor  of 
Anatomy,  in  respect  to  the  natural  position  and  movement 
of  the  feet.  He  observed  that  the  fashion  of  turning 
them  outwards  was  contrary  to  the  intent  of  nature,  as 
might  be  seen  from  the  structure  of  the  bones,  and  from 
the  weakness  that  proceeded  from  that  manner  of  standing. 
To  this  we  may  add  the  erect  position  of  the  head,  the 
projection  of  the  chest,  the  walking  with  straight  knees, 
and  many  such  actions,  which  we  know  to  be  merely  the 
result  of  fashion,  and  what  nature  never  warranted,  as  we 
are  sure  that  we  have  been  taught  them  when  children. 

I  have  mentioned  but  a  few  of  those  instances,  in 
4* 


42 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


which  vanity  or  caprice  have  contrived  to  distort  and  dis- 
figure the  human  form ;  your  own  recollection  will  add  to 
these  a  thousand  more  of  ill-understood  methods,  which 
have  been  practised  to  disguise  nature  among  our  dancing- 
masters,  hair-dressers,  and  tailors,  in  their  various  schools 
of  deformity.* 

However  the  mechanic  and  ornamental  arts  may 
sacrifice  to  Fashion,  she  must  be  entirely  excluded  from 
the  Art  of  Painting ;  the  painter  must  never  mistake  this 
capricious  challenging  for  the  genuine  offspring  of  nature ) 
he  must  divest  himself  of  all  prejudices  in  favor  of  his  age 
or  country;  he  must  disregard  all  local  and  temporary 
ornaments,  and  look  only  on  those  general  habits  which 
are  every  where  and  always  the  same ;  he  addresses  his 
works  to  the  people  of  every  country  and  every  age,  he 
calls  upon  posterity  to  be  his  spectators,  and  says,  with 
Zeuxis,  In  ceternitatem  jpingo. 

The  neglect  of  separating  modern  fashions  from  the 
habits  of  nature,  leads  to  that  ridiculous  style  which  has 
been  practised  by  some  painters,  who  have  given  to  Grecian 
heroes  the  airs  and  graces  practised  in  the  court  of  Louis 
XIV. ;  an  absurdity  almost  as  great  as  it  would  have  been 
to  have  dressed  them  after  the  fashion  of  that  court. 

To  avoid  this  error,  however,  and  to  retain  the  true 
simplicity  of  nature,  is  a  task  more  difficult  than  at  first 
sight  it  may  appear.  The  prejudices  in  favor  of  the 
fashions  and  customs  that  we  have  been  used  to,  and  which 

*  "Those,"  says  Quintilian,  "who  are  taken  with  the  outward 
show  of  things,  think  that  there  is  more  beauty  in  persons  who 
are  trimmed,  curled,  and  painted,  than  uncorrupt  nature  can 
give ;  as  if  beauty  were  merely  the  effect  of  the  corruption  of 
manners." — R 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


43 


are  justly  called  a  second  nature,  make  it  too  often  difficult 
to  distinguish  that  which  is  natural  from  that  which  is  the 
result  of  education ;  they  frequently  even  give  a  predilec- 
tion in  favor  of  the  artificial  mode ;  and  almost  every  one 
is  apt  to  be  guided  by  those  local  prejudices,  who  has  not 
chastised  his  mind,  and  regulated  the  instability  of  his 
affections  by  the  eternal  invariable  idea  of  nature. 

Here,  then,  as  before,  we  must  have  recourse  to  the 
Ancients  as  instructors.  It  is  from  a  careful  study  of 
their  works  that  you  will  be  enabled  to  attain  to  the  real 
simplicity  of  nature ;  they  will  suggest  many  observations 
which  would  probably  escape  you,  if  your"  study  were  con- 
fined to  nature  alone.  And,  indeed,  I  can  not  help  sus- 
pecting, that,  in  this  instance,  the  ancients  had  an 
easier  task  than  the  moderns.  They  had,  probably,  little 
or  nothing  to  unlearn,  as  their  manners  were  nearly 
approaching  to  this  desirable  simplicity;  while  the  modern 
artist,  before  he  can  see  the  truth  of  things,  is  obliged  to 
remove  a  veil,  with  which  the  fashion  of  the  times  has 
thought  proper  to  cover  her. 

Having  gone  thus  far  in  our  investigation  of  the  great 
style  in  painting ;  if  we  now  should  suppose  that  the  artist 
has  found  the  true  idea  of  beauty,  which  enables  him  to 
give  his  works  a  correct  and  perfect  design ;  if  we  should 
suppose,  also,  that  he  has  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  una- 
dulterated habits  of  nature,  which  gives  him  simplicity; 
the  rest  of  his  task  is,  perhaps,  less  than  is  generally 
imagined.  Beauty  and  simplicity  have  so  great  a  share  in 
the  composition  of  a  great  style,  that  he  who  has  acquired 
them  has  little  else  to  learn.  It  must  not,  indeed,  be  for- 
gotten, that  there  is  a  nobleness  of  conception,  which  goes 
beyond  any  thing  in  the  mere  exhibition  even  of  perfect 


44 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


form;  there  is  an  art  of  animating  and  dignifying  the 
figures  with  intellectual  grandeur,  of  impressing  the 
appearance  of  philosophic  wisdom,  or  heroic  virtue.  This 
can  only  be  acquired  by  him  that  enlarges  the  sphere  of 
his  understanding  by  a  variety  of  knowledge,  and  warms 
his  imagination  with  the  best  productions  of  ancient  and 
modern  poetry. 

A  hand  thus  exercised,  and  a  mind  thus  instructed, 
will  bring  the  art  to  a  higher  degree  of  excellence  than, 
perhaps,  it  has  hitherto  attained  in  this  country.  Such  a 
student  will  disdain  the  humbler  walks  of  painting,  which, 
however  profitable,  can  never  assure  him  a  permanent  repu- 
tation. He  will  leave  the  meaner  artist  servilely  to  sup- 
pose that  those  are  the  best  pictures,  which  are  most  likely 
to  deceive  the  spectator.  He  will  permit  the  lower  painter, 
like  the  florist  or  collector  of  shells,  to  exhibit  the  minute 
discriminations,  which  distinguish  one  object  of  the  same 
species  from  another  j  while  he,  like  the  philosopher,  will 
consider  nature  in  the  abstract,  and  represent  in  every 
one  of  his  figures  the  character  of  its  species. 

If  deceiving  the  eye  were  the  only  business  of  the  art, 
there  is  no  doubt,  indeed,  but  the  minute  painter  would  be 
more  apt  to  succeed ;  but  it  is  not  the  eye,  it  is  the  mind 
which  the  painter  of  genius  desires  to  address ;  nor  will  he 
waste  a  moment  upon  those  smaller  objects  which  only 
serve  to  catch  the  sense,  to  divide  the  attention,  and  to 
counteract  his  great  design  of  speaking  to  the  heart. 

This  is  the  ambition  which  I  wish  to  excite  in  your 
minds;  and  the  object  I  have  had  in  my  view,  throughout 
this  discourse,  is  that  one  great  idea  which  gives  to  paint- 
ing its  true  dignity,  which  entitles  it  to  the  name  of  a 
liberal  art,  and  ranks  it  as  a  sister  of  poetry. 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


45 


It  may  possibly  have  happened  to  many  young  stu- 
dents, whose  application  was  sufficient  to  overcome  all  diffi- 
culties, and  whose  minds  were  capable  of  embracing  the 
most  extensive  views,  that  they  have,  by  a  wrong  direction 
originally  given,  spent  their  lives  in  the  meaner  walks  of 
painting,  without  ever  knowing  there  was  a  nobler  to  pur- 
sue. Albert  Durer,  as  Vasari  has  justly  remarked,  would 
probably  have  been  one  of  the  first  painters  of  his  age  (and 
he  lived  in  an  era  of  great  artists)  had  he  been  initiated 
into  those  great  principles  of  the  art,  which  were  so  well 
understood  and  practised  by  his  contemporaries  in  Italy. 
But  unluckily  having  never  seen  nor  heard  of  any  other 
manner,  he,  without  doubt,  considered  his  own  as  perfect. 

As  for  the  various  departments  of  painting,  which  do 
not  presume  to  make  such  high  pretensions,  .they  are  many. 
None  of  them  are  without  their  merit,  though  none  enter 
into  competition  with  this  universal  presiding  idea  of  the 
art.  The  painters  who  have  applied  themselves  more  par- 
ticularly to  low  and  vulgar  characters,  and  who  express 
with  precision  the  various  shades  of  passion,  as  they  are 
exhibited  by  vulgar  minds  (such  as  we  see  in  the  works  of 
Hogarth)  deserve  great  praise;  but  as  their  genius  has 
been  employed  on  low  and  confined  subjects,  the  praise 
which  we  give  must  be  as  limited  as  its  object.  The  mer- 
rymaking or  quarreling  of  the  Boors  of  Tenicrs )  the  same 
sort  of  productions  of  Brouwer  or  Ostade,  are  excellent  in 
their  kind ;  and  the  excellence  and  its  praise  will  be  in 
proportion,  as,  in  those  limited  subjects,  and  peculiar 
forms,  they  introduce  more  or  less  of  the  expression  of 
those  passions,  as  they  appear  in  general  and  more  en- 
larged nature.  This  principle  may  be  applied  to  the  Bat- 
tle-pieces of  Bourgognone,  the  French  Gallantries  of  Wat- 


46 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


teau,  and  even  beyond  the  exhibition  of  animal  life,  to  the 
Landscapes  of  Claude  Lorraine,  and  the  Sea-Views  of 
Vandervelde.  All  these  painters  have,  in  general,  the 
same  right,  in  different  degrees,  to  the  name  of  a  painter, 
which  a  satirist,  an  epigrammatist,  a  sonnetteer,  a  writer 
of  pastorals,  or  descriptive  poetry,  has  to  that  of  a  poet. 

In  the  same  rank,  and  perhaps  of  not  so  great  merit,  is 
the  cold  painter  of  portraits.    But  his  correct  and  just 
imitation  of  his  object  has  its  merit.    Even  the  painter  of 
still  life,  whose  highest  ambition  is  to  give  a  minute  repre- 
sentation of  every  part  of  those  low  objects  which  he  sets 
before  him,  deserves  praise  in  proportion  to  his  attainment  j 
because  no  part  of  this  excellent  art,  so  much  the  orna- 
ment of  polished  life,  is   destitute  of  value  and  use. 
These,  however,  are  by  no  means  the  views  to  which  the 
mind  of  the  student  ought  to  be  primarily  directed. 
Having  begun  by  aiming  at  better  things,  if  from  particu- 
lar inclination,  or  from  the  taste  of  the  time  and  place  he 
lives  in,  or  from  necessity,  or  from  failure  in  the  highest 
attempts,  he  is  obliged  to  descend  lower,  he  will  bring  into 
the  lower  sphere  of  art  a  grandeur  of  composition  and 
character,  that  will  raise  and  ennoble  his  works  far  above 
their  natural  rank. 

A  man  is  not  weak,  though  he  may  not  be  able  to 
wield  the  club  of  Hercules ;  nor  does  a  man  always  prac- 
tice that  which  he  esteems  the  best ;  but  does  that  which 
he  can  best  do.  In  moderate  attempts  there  are  many 
walks  open  to  the  artist.  But  as  the  idea  of  beauty  is  of 
necessity  but  one,  so  there  can  be  but  one  great  mode  of 
painting ;  the  leading  principle  of  which  I  have  endeavored 
to  explain. 

I  should  be  sorry,  if  what  is  here  recommended  should 


THE  THIRD  DISCOURSE. 


47 


be  at  all  understood  to  countenance  a  careless  or  undeter- 
mined manner  of  painting.  For,  though  the  painter  is  to 
overlook  the  accidental  discriminations  of  nature,  he  is  to 
exhibit  distinctly,  and  with  precision,  the  general  forms  of 
things.  A  firm  and  determined  outline  is  one  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  great  style  in  painting ;  and,  let  me  add, 
that  he  who  possesses  the  knowledge  of  the  exact  form 
which  every  part  of  nature  ought  to  have,  will  be  fond  of 
expressing  that  knowledge  with  correctness  and  precision 
in  all  his  works. 

To  conclude  :  I  have  endeavored  to  reduce  the  idea  of 
beauty  to  general  principles ;  and  I  had  the  pleasure  to 
observe  that  the  Professor  of  Painting  proceeded  in  the 
same  method,  when  he  showed  you  that  the  artifice  of  con- 
trast was  founded  but  on  one  principle.  I  am  convinced 
that  this  is  the  only  means  of  advancing  science ;  of  clear- 
ing the  mind  from  a  confused  heap  of  contradictory  obser- 
vations, that  do  but  perplex  and  puzzle  the  student,  when 
he  compares  them,  or  misguide  him  if  he  gives  himself  up 
to  their  authority ;  bringing  them  under  one  general  head, 
can  alone  give  rest  and  satisfaction  to  an  inquisitive  mind. 


DISCOURSE  IV. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  10,  1771. 

General  ideas  the  presiding  principle  which  regulates  every  part  of  Art ;  Inven- 
tion, Expression,  Coloring,  and  Drapery. — Two  distinct  styles  in  history-paint- 
ing ;  the  grand  and  the  ornamental. — The  schools  in  which  each  is  to  be  found. 
—The  composite  style. — The  style  formed  on  local  customs  and  habits,  or  a 
partial  view  of  nature. 

GENTLEMEN, 

The  value  and  rank  of  every  art  is  in  proportion  to  the 
mental  labor  employed  in  it,  or  the  mental  pleasure  pro- 
duced by  it.  As  this  principle  is  observed  or  neglected, 
our  profession  becomes  either  a  liberal  art,  or  a  mechanical 
trade.  In  the  hands  of  one  man,  it  makes  the  highest 
pretensions,  as  it  is  addressed  to  the  noblest  faculties :  in 
those  of  another,  it  is  reduced  to  a  mere  matter  of  orna- 
ment; and  the  painter  has  but  the  humble-  province  of 
furnishing  our  apartments  with  elegance. 

This  exertion  of  mind,  which  is  the  only  circumstance 
that  truly  ennobles  our  Art,  makes  the  great  distinction 
between  the  Roman  and  Yenetian  schools.  I  have  for- 
merly observed  that  perfect  form  is  produced  by  leaving 
out  particularities,  and  retaining  only  general  ideas :  I 
shall  now  endeavor  to  show  that  this  principle,  which  I 
have  proved  to  be  metaphysically  just,  extends  itself  to 
every  part  of  the  Art ;  that  it  gives  what  is  called  the 
grand  style,  to  Invention,  to  Composition,  to  Expression, 
and  even  to  Coloring  and  Drapery. 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


49 


Invention,  in  Painting,  does  not  imply  the  invention 
of  the  subject,  for  that  is  commonly  supplied  by  the  Poet 
or  Historian.  With  respect  to  the  choice,  no  subject  can 
be  proper  that  is  not  generally  interesting.  It  ought  to  be 
either  some  eminent  instance  of  heroic  action  or  heroic 
suffering.  There  must  be  something,  either  in  the  action 
or  in  the  object,  in  which  men  are  universally  concerned, 
and  which  powerfully  strikes  upon  the  public  sympathy. 

Strictly  speaking,  indeed,  no  subject  can  be  of  univer- 
sal, hardly  can  it  be  of  general,  concern;  but  there  are 
events  and  characters  so  popularly  known  in  those  countries 
where  our  Art  is  in  request,  that  they  may  be  considered 
as  sufficiently  general  for  all  our  purposes.  Such  are  the 
great  events  of  Greek  and  Roman  fable  and  history,  which 
early  education,  and  the  usual  course  of  reading,  have 
made  familiar  and  interesting  to  all  Europe,  without  being 
degraded  by  the  vulgarism  of  ordinary  life  in  any  country. 
Such,  too,  are  the  capital  subjects  of  Scripture  history, 
which,  beside  their  general  notoriety,  become  venerable  by 
their  connection  with  our  religion. 

As  it  is  required  that  the  subject  selected  should  be  a 
general  one,  it  is  no  less  necessary  that  it  should  be  rapt 
unembarrassed  with  whatever  may  any  way  serve  to  divide 
the  attention  of  the  spectator.  Whenever  a  story  is  related, 
every  man  forms  a  picture  in  his  mind  of  the  action  and 
expression  of  the  persons  employed.  The  power  of  repre- 
senting this  mental  picture  on  canvass  is  what  we  call  in- 
vention in  a  painter.  And  as,  in  the  conception  of  this 
ideal  picture,  the  mind  does  not  enter  into  the  minute 
peculiarities  of  the  dress,  furniture,  or  scene  of  action ;  so, 
when  the  painter  comes  to  represent  it,  he  contrives  those 
little  necessary  concomitant  circumstances  in  such  a  man- 
5 


50 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


ner  that  they  shall  strike  the  spectator  no  more  than  they 
did  himself  in  his  first  conception  of  the  story. 

I  am  very  ready  to  allow,  that  some  circumstances  of 
minuteness  and  particularity  frequently  tend  to  give  an  air 
of  truth  to  a  piece,  and  to  interest  the  spectator  in  an  extra- 
ordinary manner.  Such  circumstances,  therefore,  can  not 
wholly  be  rejected :  hut  if  there  be  any  thing  in  the  Art 
which  requires  peculiar  nicety  of  discernment,  it  is  the 
disposition  of  these  minute  circumstantial  parts;  which, 
according  to  the  judgment  employed  in  the  choice,  become 
so  useful  to  truth,  or  so  injurious  to  grandeur. 

However,  the  usual  and  most  dangerous  error  is  on 
the  side  of  minuteness;  and,  therefore,  I  think  caution 
most  necessary  where  most  have  failed.  The  general  idea 
constitutes  real  excellence.  All  smaller  things,  however 
perfect  in  their  way,  are  to  be  sacrificed  without  mercy  to 
the  greater.  The  painter  will  not  inquire  what  things 
may  be  admitted  without  much  censure ;  he  will  not  think 
it  enough  to  show  that  they  may  be  there ;  he  will  show 
that  they  must  be  there ;  that  their  absence  would  render 
his  picture  maimed  and  defective. 

Thus,  though  to  the  principal  group  a  second  or  third 
be  added,  and  a  second  and  third  mass  of  light,  care  must 
be  taken  that  these  subordinate  actions  and  lights,  neither 
each  in  particular,  nor  all  together,  come  into  any  degree 
of  competition  with  the  principal :  they  should  merely 
make  a  part  of  that  whole  which  would  be  imperfect  with- 
out them.  To  every  kind  of  painting  this  rule  may  be 
applied.  Even  in  portraits,  the  grace,  and,  we  may  add, 
the  likeness,  consists  more  in  taking  the  general  air,  than 
in  observing  the  exact  similitude  of  every  feature. 

Thus  figures  must  have  a  ground  whereon  to  stand ;  they 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


51 


must  be  clothed ;  there  must  be  a  background  :  there  must 
be  light  and  shadow ;  but  none  of  these  ought  to  appear 
to  have  taken  up  any  part  of  the  artist's  attention.  They 
should  be  so  managed  as  not  even  to  catch  that  of 
the  spectator.  We  know  well  enough,  when  we  ana- 
lyze a  piece,  the  difficulty  and  the  subtilty  with  which 
an  artist  adjusts  the  background  drapery,  and  masses 
of  light ;  we  know  that  a  considerable  part  of  the  grace 
and  effect  of  his  picture  depends  upon  them ;  but  this  art 
is  so  much  concealed,  even  to  a  judicious  eye,  that  no  re- 
mains of  any  of  these  subordinate  parts  occur  to  the  memory 
when  the  picture  is  not  present. 

The  great  end  of  the  art  is  to  strike  the  imagination. 
The  painter,  therefore,  is  to  make  no  ostentation  of  the 
means  by  which  this  is  done ;  the  spectator  is  only  to  feel 
the  result  in  his  bosom.  An  inferior  artist  is  unwilling 
that  any  part  of  his  industry  should  be  lost  upon  the 
spectator.  He  takes  as  much  pains  to  discover,  as  the 
greater  artist  does  to  conceal,  the  marks  of  his  subordinate 
assiduity.  In  works  of  the  lower  kind,  every  thing  appears 
studied,  and  encumbered ;  it  is  all  boastful  art,  and  open 
affectation.  The  ignorant  often  part  from  such  pictures 
with  wonder  in  their  mouths  and  indifference  in  their 
hearts. 

But  it  is  not  enough  in  Invention  that  the  Artist  should 
restrain  and  keep  under  all  the  inferior  parts  of  his  sub- 
ject; he  must  sometimes  deviate  from  vulgar  and  strict 
historical  truth,  in  pursuing  the  grandeur  of  his  design. 

How  much  the  great  style  exacts  from  its  professors  to 
conceive  and  represent  their  subjects  in  a  poetical  manner, 
not  confined  to  mere  matter  of  fact,  may  be  seen  in  the 
Cartoons  of  Raffaelle.    In  all  the  pictures  in  which  the 


52 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


painter  has  represented  the  apostles,  he  has  drawn  them 
with  great  nobleness ;  he  has  given  them  as  much  dignity 
as  the  human  figure  is  capable  of  receiving ;  yet  we  are 
expressly  told  in  Scripture  they  had  no  such  respectable  ap- 
pearance ;  and  of  St.  Paul,  in  particular,  we  are  told,  by 
himself,  that  his  bodily  presence  was  mean.  Alexander  is 
said  to  have  been  of  a  low  stature :  a  Painter  ought  not  so 
to  represent  him.  Agesilaus  was  low,  lame,  and  of  a  mean 
appearance :  none  of  these  defects  ought  to  appear  in  a 
piece  of  which  he  is  the  hero.  In  conformity  to  custom,  I 
call  this  part  of  the  art  History  Painting ;  it  ought  to  be 
called  Poetical,  as  in  reality  it  is. 

All  this  is  not  falsifying  any  fact;  it  is  taking  an 
allowed  poetical  licence.  A  painter  of  portraits,  retains 
the  individual  likeness;  a  painter  of  history,  shows  the 
man  by  showing  his  action.  A  painter  must  compensate 
the  natural  deficiencies  of  his  art.  He  has  but  one  sen- 
tence to  utter,  but  one  moment  to  exhibit.  He  can  not, 
like  the  poet  or  historian  expatiate,  and  impress  the  mind 
with  great  veneration  for  the  character  of  the  hero  or  saint 
he  represents,  though  he  lets  us  know,  at  the  same  time, 
that  the  saint  was  deformed,  or  the  hero  lame.  The  painter 
has  no  other  means  of  giving  an  idea  of  the  dignity  of  the 
mind,  but  by  that  external  appearance  which  grandeur  of 
thought  does  generally,  though  not  always,  impress  on  the 
countenance  j  and  by  that  correspondence  of  figure  to  sen- 
timent and  situation,  which  all  men  wish,  but  can  not 
command.  The  painter  who  may  in  this  one  particular 
attain  with  ease  what  others  desire  in  vain,  ought  to  give 
all  that  he  possibly  can,  since  there  are  so  many  circum- 
stances of  true  greatness  that  he  can  not  give  at  all.  He 
can  not  make  his  hero  talk  like  a  great  man;  he  must 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


53 


make  him  look  like  one.  For  which  reason  he  ought  to 
be  well  studied  in  the  analysis  of  those  circumstances 
which  constitute  dignity  of  appearance  in  real  life. 

As  in  Invention,  so  likewise  in  Expression,  care  must 
be  taken  not  to  run  into  particularities.  Those  expressions 
alone  should  be  given  to  the  figures  which  their  respective 
situations  generally  produce.  Nor  is  this  enough;  each 
person  should  also  have  that  expression  which  men  of  his 
rank  generally  exhibit.  The  joy,  or  the  grief,  of  a  char- 
acter of  dignity  is  not  to  be  expressed  in  the  same  manner 
as  a  similar  passion  In  a  vulgar  face.  Upon  this  principle, 
Bernini,  perhaps,  may  be  subject  to  censure.  This  sculp- 
tor, in  many  respects  admirable,  has  given  a  very  mean 
expression  to  his  statue  of  David,  who  is  represented  as 
just  going  to  throw  the  stone  from  the  sling;  and,  in  order 
to  give  it  the  expression  of  energy,  he  has  made  him  biting 
his  under  lip.  This  expression  is  far  from  being  general, 
and  still  farther  from  being  dignified.  He  might  have  seen 
it  in  an  instance  or  two ;  and  he  mistook  accident  for 
generality. 

With  respect  to  Coloring,  though  it  may  appear  at  first 
a  part  of  painting  merely  mechanical,  yet  it  still  has  its 
rules,  and  those  grounded  upon  that  presiding  principle 
which  regulates  both  the  great  and  the  little  in  the  study 
of  a  painter.  By  this,  the  first  effect  of  the  picture  is 
produced;  and  as  this  is  performed,  the  spectator,  as  he 
walks  the  gallery,  will  stop,  or  pass  along.  To  give  a  gen- 
eral air  of  grandeur  at  first  view,  all  trifling,  or  artful  play 
of  little  lights,  or  an  attention  to  a  variety  of  tints,  is  to 
be  avoided ;  a  quietness  and  simplicity  must  reign  over  the 
whole  work;  to  which  a  breadth  of  uniform  and  simple 
color  will  very  much  contribute.  Grandeur  of  effect  is 
5* 


54 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


produced  by  two  different  ways,  which  seem  entirely  op- 
posed to  each  other.  One  is,  by  reducing  the  colors  to 
little  more  than  chiaro-oscuro,  which  was  often  the  practice 
of  the  Bolognian  schools ;  and  the  other,  by  making  the 
colors  very  distinct  and  forcible,  such  as  we  see  in  those 
of  Rome  and  Florence;  but  still,  the  presiding  principle 
of  both  those  manners  is  simplicity.  Certainly,  nothing 
can  be  more  simple  than  monotony ;  and  the  distinct  blue, 
red,  and  yellow  colors  which  are  seen  in  the  draperies  of 
the  Roman  and  Florentine  schools,  though  they  have  not 
that  kind  of  harmony  which  is  produced  by  a  variety  of 
broken  and  transparent  colors,  have  that  effect  of  grandeur 
which  was  intended.  Perhaps  these  distinct  colors  strike 
the  mind  more  forcibly,  from  there  not  being  any  great 
union  between  them ;  as  martial  music,  which  is  intended 
to  rouse  the  nobler  passions,  has  its  effect  from  the  sudden 
and  strongly  marked  transitions  from  one  note  to  another 
which  that  style  of  music  requires ;  whilst,  in  that  which 
is  intended  to  move  the  softer  passions,  the  notes  impercep- 
tibly melt  into  one  another. 

In  the  same  manner  as  the  historical  painter  never 
enters  into  the  detail  of  colors,  so  neither  does  he  debase 
his  conceptions  with  minute  attention  to  the  discrimina- 
tions of  drapery.  It  is  the  inferior  style  that  marks  the 
variety  of  stuffs.  With  him,  the  clothing  is  neither  wool- 
len, nor  linen,  nor  silk,  satin,  or  velvet :  it  is  drapery ;  it 
is  nothing  more.  The  art  of  disposing  the  foldings  of  the 
drapery  makes  a  very  considerable  part  of  the  painter's 
study.  To  make  it  merely  natural,  is  a  mechanical  opera- 
tion, to  which  neither  genius  nor  taste  are  required; 
whereas,  it  requires  the  nicest  judgment  to  dispose  the 
drapery,  so  that  the  folds  shall  have  an  easy  communica- 


T  IE  FOrTCTFT  DISCOURSE. 


55 


tion,  and  gracefully  follow  each  other,  with  such  natural 
negligence  as  to  look  like  the  effect  of  chance,  and  at  the 
same  time  show  the  figure  under  it  to  the  utmost  advan- 
tage. 

Carlo  Maratti  was  of  opinion,  that  the  disposition  of 
drapery  was  a  more  difficult  art  than  even  that  of  drawing 
the  human  figure;  that  a  student  might  be  more  easily 
taught  the  latter  than  the  former;  as  the  rules  of  drapery, 
he  said,  could  not  be  so  well  ascertained  as  those  for  de- 
lineating a  correct  form.  This,  perhaps,  is  a  proof  how 
willingly  we  favor  our  own  peculiar  excellence.  Carlo 
Maratti  is  said  to  have  valued  himself  particularly  upon 
his  skill  in  this  part  of  his  art ;  yet  in  him,  the  disposition 
appears  so  ostentatiously  artificial,  that  he  is  inferior  to 
Raftaelle,  even  in  that  which  gave  him  his  best  claim  to 
reputation. 

Such  is  the  great  principle  by  which  we  must  be  direct- 
ed in  the  nobler  branches  of  our  art.  Upon  this  principle, 
the  Roman,  the  Florentine,  the  Bolognese  schools  have 
formed  their  practice ;  and  by  this  they  have  deservedly 
obtained  the  highest  praise.  These  are  the  three  great 
schools  of  the  world  in  the  epic  style.  The  best  of  the 
French  school,  Poussin,  Le  Sueur,  and  Le  Brun,  have 
formed  themselves  upon  these  models,  and  consequently 
may  be  said,  though  Frenchmen,  to  be  a  colony  from  the 
Roman  school.  Next  to  these,  but  in  a  very  different  style 
of  excellence,  we  may  rank  the  Venetian,  together  with 
the  Flemish  and  the  Dutch  schools ;  all  professing  to  de- 
part from  the  great  purposes  of  painting,  and  catching  at 
applause  by  inferior  qualities. 

I  am  not  ignorant  that  some  will  censure  me  for 
placing  the  Venetians'  in  this  inferior  class,  and  many  of 


56 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


the  warmest  admirers  of  painting  will  think  them  unjustly 
degraded ;  but  I  wish  not  to  be  misunderstood.  Though  I 
can  by  no  means  allow  them  to  hold  any  rank  with  the 
nobler  schools  of  painting,  they  accomplished  perfectly  the 
thing  they  attempted.  But  as  mere  elegance  is  their  prin- 
cipal object,  as  they  seem  more  willing  to  dazzle  than  to 
affect,  it  can  be  no  injury  to  them  to  suppose  that  their 
practice  is  useful  only  to  its  proper  end.  But  what  may 
heighten  the  elegant  may  degrade  the  sublime.  There  is  a 
simplicity,  and,  I  may  add,  severity,  in  the  great  manner, 
which  is,  I  am  afraid,  almost  incompatible  with  this  com- 
paratively sensual  style. 

Tintoret,  Paul  Veronese,  and  others  of  the  Venetian 
school,  seem  to  have  painted  with  no  other  purpose  than  to 
be  admired  for  their  skill  and  expertness  in  the  mechanism 
of  painting,  and  to  make  a  parade  of  that  art,  which,  as  I 
before  observed,  the  higher  style  requires  its  followers  to 
conceal. 

In  a  conference  of  the  French  Academy,  at  which  were 
present  Le  Brun,  Sebastian  Bourdon,  and  all  the  eminent 
Artists  of  that  age,  one  of  the  Academicians  desired  to 
have  their  opinion  on  the  conduct  of  Paul  Veronese,  who, 
though  a  painter  of  great  consideration,  had,  contrary  to 
the  strict  rules  of  art,  in  his  picture  of  Perseus  and  An- 
dromeda, represented  the  principal  figure  in  shade.  To  this 
question  no  satisfactory  answer  was  then  given.  But  I  will 
venture  to  say,  that,  if  they  had  considered  the  class  of 
the  Artist,  and  ranked  him  as  an  ornamental  Painter,  there 
would  have  been  no  difficulty  in  answering — "It  was  un- 
reasonable to  expect  what  was  never  intended.  His  inten- 
tion was  solely  to  produce  an  effect  of  light  and  shadow; 
every  thing  was  to  be  sacrificed  to  that  intent,  and  the 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


57 


capricious  composition  of  that  picture  suited  very  well  with 
the  style  which  he  professed. " 

Young  minds  are  indeed  too  apt  to  be  captivated  by  this 
splendor  of  style ;  and  that  of  the  Venetians  is  particular- 
ly pleasing  ;  for  by  them,  all  those  parts  of  the  Art  that 
gave  pleasure  to  the  eye  or  sense,  have  been  cultivated 
with  care,  and  carried  to  the  degree  nearest  to  perfection. 
The  powers  exerted  in  the  mechanical  part  of  the  Art  have 
been  called  the  language  of  painters ;  but  we  may  say, 
that  it  is  but  poor  eloquence  which  only  shows  that  the 
orator  can  talk.  Words  should  be  employed  as  the  means, 
not  as  the  end :  language  is  the  instrument,  conviction  is 
the  work. 

The  language  of  Painting  must  indeed  be  allowed 
these  masters;  but  even  in  that,  they  have  shown  more 
copiousness  than  choice,  and  more  luxuriancy  than  judg- 
ment. If  we  consider  the  uninteresting  subjects  of  their 
invention,  or  at  least  the  uninteresting  manner  in  which 
they  are  treated ;  if  we  attend  to  their  capricious  composi- 
tion, their  violent  and  affected  contrasts,  whether  of  figures 
or  of  light  and  shadow,  the  richness  of  their  drapery,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  the  mean  effect  which  the  discrimination 
of  stuffs  gives  to  their  pictures ;  if  to  these  we  add  their 
total  inattention  to  expression ;  and  then  reflect  on  the 
conceptions  and  the  learning  of  Michael  Angelo,  or  the 
simplicity  of  Kaffaelle,  we  can  no  longer  dwell  on  the  com- 
parison. Even  in  coloring,  if  we  compare  the  quietness 
and  chastity  of  the  Bolognese  pencil  to  the  bustle  and 
tumult  that  fills  every  part  of  a  Venetian  picture,  without 
the  least  attempt  to  interest  the  passions,  their  boasted  art 
will  appear  a  mere  struggle  without  effect;  a  tale  told  by 
an  idiot,  full  of  sound  and  fury,  signify  lag  nothing. 


53 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


Such  as  suppose  that  the  great  style  might  happily  be 
blended  with  the  ornamental,  that  the  simple,  grave,  and 
majestic  dignity  of  Raffaelle  could  unite  with  the  glow  and 
bustle  of  a  Paolo,  or  Tintoret,  are  totally  mistaken.  The 
principles  by  which  each  is  attained  are  so  contrary  to  each 
other,  that  they  seem,  in  my  opinion,  incompatible,  and  as 
impossible  to  exist  together,  as  that  in  the  mind  the  most 
sublime  ideas  and  the  lowest  sensuality  should  at  the  same 
time  be, united. 

The  subjects  of  the  Venetian  Painters  are  mostly  such 
as  give  them  an  opportunity  of  introducing  a  great  number 
of  figures ;  such  as  feasts,  marriages,  and  processions,  pub- 
lic martyrdoms,  or  miracles.  I  can  easily  conceive  that 
Paul  Veronese,  if  he  were  asked,  would  say,  that  no  sub- 
ject was  proper  for  an  historical  picture,  but  such  as 
admitted  at  least  forty  figures;  for  in  a  less  number,  he 
would  assert,  there  could  be  no  opportunity  of  the 
Painter's  showing  his  art  in  composition,  his  dexterity  of 
managing  and  disposing  the  masses  of  light  and  groups 
of  figures,  and  of  introducing  a  variety  of  Eastern  dresses 
and  characters  in  their  rich  stuffs. 

But  the  thing  is  very  different  with  a  pupil  of  the 
greater  schools.  Annibale  Caracci  thought  twelve  figures 
sufficient  for  any  story ;  he  conceived  that  more  would  con- 
tribute to  no  end  but  to  fill  space;  that  they  would  be  but 
cold  spectators  of  the  general  action,  or,  to  use  his  own 
expression,  that  they  would  be  figures  to  let.  Besides,  it 
is  impossible  for  a  picture  composed  of  so  many  parts  to 
have  that  effect  so  indispensably  necessary  to  grandeur, 
that  of  one  complete  whole.  However  contradictory  it 
may  be  in  geometry,  it  is  true  in  taste,  that  many  little 
things  will  not  make  a  great  one.    The  Sublime  impresses 


THE  FOURTII  DISCOURSE. 


50 


the  mind  at  once  with  one  great  idea ;  it  is  a  single  blow  : 
the  Elegant,  indeed,  may  be  produced  by  repetition;  by 
an  accumulation  of  many  minute  circumstances. 

However  great  the  difference  is  between  the  composi- 
tion of  the  Venetian  and  the  rest  of  the  Italian  schools, 
there  is  full  as  great  a  disparity  in  the  effect  of  their  pic- 
tures as  produced  by  colors.  And  though  in  this  respect 
the  Venetians  must  be  allowed  extraordinary  skill,  yet 
even  that  skill,  as  they  have  employed  it,  will  but  ill  cor- 
respond with  the  great  style.  Their  coloring  is  not  only 
too  brilliant,  but,  I  will  venture  to  say,  too  harmonious,  to 
produce  that  solidity,  steadiness,  and  simplicity  of  effect, 
which  heroic  subjects  require,  and  which  simple  or  grave 
colors  only  can  give  to  a  work.  That  they  are  to  be  cau- 
tiously studied  by  those  who  are  ambitious  of  treading  the 
great  walk  of  history,  is  confirmed,  if  it  wants  confirma- 
tion, by  the  greatest  of  all  authorities,  Michael  Angelo. 
This  wonderful  man,  after  having  seen  a  picture  by  Titian, 
told  Vasari,  who  accompanied  him,*  "  that  he  liked  much 
his  coloring  and  manner;"  but  then  he  added,  "that 
it  was  a  pity  the  Venetian  painters  did  not  learn  to  draw 
correctly  in  their  youth,  and  adopt  a  better  manner  of 
stud?/." 

By  this  it  appears,  that  the  principal  attention  of  the 
Venetian  painters,  in  the  opinion  of  Michael  Angelo, 
seemed  to  be  engrossed  by  the  study  of  colors,  to  the 
neglect  of  the  ideal  beauty  of  form,  or  propriety  of 
expression.  But  if  general  censure  was  given  to  that 
school  from  the  sight  of  a  picture  of  Titian,  how  much 

*  Dicendo,  chc  molto  gli  piaccva  il  colorito  suo,  c  la  manicra ; 
ma  chc  era  un  peccato,  chc  a  Venezia  non  s'impurttsse  da  prin- 
ciple- a  discgnare  bene,  c  che  non  havossano  que*  pittori  miglior 
modo  nello  studio. — Vas.  torn.  iii.  p.  226.    Vita  di  Tiziano. 


60 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


more  heavily  and  more  justly  would  the  censure  fall  on 
Paolo  Veronese,  and  more  especially  on  Tintoret?  And 
here  I  can  not  avoid  citing  Vasari's  opinion  of  the  style 
and  manner  of  Tintoret.  "Of  all  the  extraordinary 
geniuses/'*  says  he,  "  that  have  practised  the  art  of  paint- 
ing, for  wild,  capricious,  extravagant,  and  fantastical  inven- 
tions, for  furious  impetuosity  and  boldness  in  the  execution 
of  his  work,  there  is  none  like  Tintoret;  his  strange 
whimsies  are  even  beyond  extravagance;  and  his  works 
seems  to  be  produced  rather  by  chance,  than  in  consequence 
of  any  previous  design,  as  if  he  wanted  to  convince  the 
world  that  the  art  was  a  trifle,  and  of  the  most  easy  attain- 
ment." 

For  my  own  part,  when  I  speak  of  the  Venetian 
painters,  I  wish  to  be  understood  to  mean  Paolo  Veronese 
and  Tintoret,  to  the  exclusion  of  Titian :  for  though  his 
style  is  not  so  pure  as  that  of  many  other  of  the  Italian 
Schools,  yet  there  is  a  sort  of  senatorial  dignity  about  him, 
which,  however  awkward  in  his  imitators,  seems  to  become 
him  exceedingly.  His  portraits,  alone,  from  the  nobleness 
and  simplicity  of  character  which  he  always  gave  them, 
will  entitle  him  to  the  greatest  respect,  as  he  undoubtedly 
stands  in  the  first  rank  in  this  branch  of  the  art. 

It  is  not  with  Titian,  but  with  the  seducing  qualities  of 
the  two  former,  that  I  could  wish  to  caution  you  against 
being  too  much  captivated.    These  are  the  persons  who 

*  Nelle  cose  della  pittura,  stravagante,  capriccioso,  presto,  e 
resoluto,  et  il  piu  terrible  cervello,  che  habbia  havuto  mai  la  pit- 
tura, come  si  puo  vedere  in  tutte  le  sue  opere ;  e  ne'  componimen- 
ti  delle  storie,  fantastiche,  e  fatte  da  lui  diversamente,  e  fuori 
dell'  uso  degli  altri  pittori:  anzi  ha  superato  la  stravaganza,  con 
le  nuove,  e  capricciose  inventioni,  e  strani  ghiribizzi  del  suo  intel- 
leto,  che  ha  lavorato  a  caso,  e  senza  diseg  no,  quasi  nonstrando 
che  quest'  arte  e  una  baia. 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


61 


may  be  said  to  have  exhausted  all  the  powers  of  florid  elo- 
quence, to  debauch  the  young  and  unexperienced :  and 
have,  without  doubt,  been  the  cause  of  turning  off  the 
attention  of  the  connoisseur  and  of  the  patron  of  art,  as 
well  as  that  of  the  painter,  from  those  higher  excellencies 
of  which  the  art  is  capable,  and  which  ought  to  be  required 
in  every  considerable  production.  By  them,  and  their  im- 
itators, a  style  merely  ornamental  has  been  dissemina- 
ted throughout  all  Europe.  Rubens  carried  it  to  Flan- 
ders; Yoet  to  France;  and  Lucca  Giordano  to  Spain  and 
Naples. 

The  Venetian  is  indeed  the  most  splendid  of  the 
schools  of  elegance ;  and  it  is  not  without  reason  that  the 
best  performances  in  this  lower  school  are  valued  higher 
than  the  second-rate  performances  of  those  above  them; 
for  every  picture  has  value  when  it  has  a  decided  character, 
and  is  excellent  in  its  kind.  But  the  student  must  take 
care  not  to  be  so  much  dazzled  with  this  splendor,  as  to  be 
tempted  to  imitate  what  must  ultimately  lead  from  perfec- 
tion. Poussin,  whose  eye  was  always  steadily  fixed  on  the 
sublime,  has  been  often  heard  to  say,  "  That  a  particular 
attention  to  coloring  was  an  obstacle  to  the  student,  in  his 
progress  to  the  great  end  and  design  of  the  .ort ;  and  that 
he  who  attaches  himself  to  this  principal  cad,  will  acquire 
by  practice  a  reasonably  good  method  of  coloring."  * 

Though  it  be  allowed  that  elaborate  harmony  of  color- 
ing, a  brilliancy  of  tints,  a  soft  and  gradual  transition  from 
one  to  another,  present  to  the  eye,  what  an  harmonious 

*  Que  cette  application  singuleire  n'etoit,  qtPun  obstacle  pour 
empecher  de  parvenir  au  veritable  but  de  la  peinture,  et  celui  qui 
6'attache  au  principal,  acquiert  par  la  pratique  une  assez  belle 
maniere  de  peindre. — Conference  de  l'Acad.  Franc. 

6 


62 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


concert  of  music  does  to  the  ear,  it  must  be  remembered, 
that  painting  is  not  merely  a  gratification  of  the  sight. 
Such  excellence,  though  properly  cultivated,  where  noth- 
ing higher  than  elegance  is  intended,  is  weak  and  unwor- 
thy of  regard  when  the  work  aspires  to  grandeur  and 
sublimity. 

The  same  reasons  that  have  been  urged  to  show  that  a 
mixture  of  the  Venetian  style  can  not  improve  the  great 
style,  will  hold  good  in  regard  to  the  Flemish  and  Dutch 
schools.  Indeed  the  Flemish  school,  of  which  Rubens  is 
the  head,  was  formed  upon  that  of  the  Venetian;  like 
them,  he  took  his  figures  too  much  from  the  people  before 
him.  But  it  must  be  allowed  in  favor  of  the  Venetians, 
that  he  was  more  gross  than  they,  and  carried  all  their 
mistaken  methods  to  a  far  greater  excess.  In  the  Vene- 
tian school  itself,  where  they  all  err  from  the  same  cause, 
there  is  a  difference  in  the  effect.  The  difference  between 
Paolo  and  Bassano  seems  to  be  only,  that  one  introduced 
Venetian  gentlemen  into  his  pictures,  and  the  other  the 
boors  of  the  district  of  Bassano,  and  called  them  patri- 
archs aud  prophets. 

The  painters  of  the  Dutch  school  have  still  more  lo- 
cality. With  them,  a  history-piece  is  properly  a  portrait 
of  themselves  >  whether  they  describe  the  inside  or  outside 
of  their  houses,  we  have  their  own  people  engaged  in  their 
own  peculiar  occupations ;  working  or  drinking,  playing  or 
fighting.  The  circumstances  that  enter  into  a  picture  of 
this  kind,  are  so  far  from  giving  a  general  view  of  human 
life,  that  they  exhibit  all  the  minute  particularities  of  a 
nation  differing*  in  several  respects  from  the  rest  of  man- 
kind. Yet,  let  them  have  their  share  of  more  humble 
praise.    The  painters  of  this  school  are  excellent  in  their 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


63 


own  way;  they  arc  only  ridiculous  when  they  attempt 
general  history  on  their  own  narrow  principles,  and  debase 
great  events  by  the  meanness  of  their  characters. 

Some  inferior  dexterity,  some  extraordinary  mechanical 
power  is  apparently  that  from  which  they  seek  distinction. 
Thus,  we  see,  that  school  alone  has  the  custom  of  repre- 
senting candle-light  not  as  it  really  appears  to  us  by  night, 
but  red,  as  it  would  illuminate  objects  to  a  spectator  by 
day.  Such  tricks,  however  pardonable  in  the  little  style, 
where  petty  effects  are  the  sole  end,  are  inexcusable  in  the 
greater,  where  the  attention  should  never  be  drawn  aside 
by  trifles,  but  should  be  entirely  occupied  by  the  subject 
itself. 

The  same  local  principles  which  characterize  the  Dutch 
school  extend  even  to  their  landscape  painters;  and  Ru- 
bens himself,  who  has  painted  many  landscapes,  has  some- 
times transgressed  in  this  particular.  Their  pieces  in  this 
way  are,  I  think,  always  a  representation  of  an  individual 
spot,  and  each  in  its  kind  a  very  faithful  but  a  very  con- 
fined portrait.  Claude  Lorrain,  on  the  contrary,  was 
convinced,  that  taking  nature  as  he  found  it  seldom  pro- 
duced beauty.  His  pictures  are  a  composition  of  the 
various  draughts  which  he  had  previously  made  from 
various  beautiful  scenes  and  prospects.  However,  Rubens 
in  some  measure  has  made  amends  for  the  deficiency  with 
which  he  is  charged ;  he  has  contrived  to  raise  and  animate 
his  otherwise  uninteresting  views,  by  introducing  a  rain- 
bow, storm,  or  some  particular  accidental  effect  of  light. 
That  the  practice  of  Claude  Lorrain,  in  respect  to  his 
choice,  is  to  be  adopted  by  Landscape-painters  in  opposition 
to  that  of  the  Flemish  and  Dutch  schools,  there  can  be  no 
doubt;  as  its  truth  is  founded  upon  the  same  principle  as 


61 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


that  by  which  the  Historical  Painter  acquires  perfect  form. 
But  whether  landscape  painting  has  a  right  to  aspire  so  far 
as  to  reject  what  the  painters  call  Accidents  of  Nature,  is 
not  easy  to  determine.  It  is  certain  Claude  Lorrain  sel- 
dom, if  ever,  availed  himself  of  those  accidents ;  either  he 
thought  that  such  peculiarities  were  contrary  to  that  style 
of  general  nature  which  he  professed,  or  that  it  would  catch 
the  attention  too  strongly,  and  destroy  that  quietness  and 
repose  which  he  thought  necessary  to  that  kind  of 
painting. 

A  Portrait-painter  likewise,  when  he  attempts  history, 
unless  he  is  upon  his  guard,  is  likely  to  enter  too  much 
into  the  detail.  He  too  frequently  makes  his  historical 
heads  look  like  portraits;  and  this  was  once  the  custom 
amongst  those  old  painters,  who  revived  the  art  before  gene- 
ral ideas  were  practised  or  understood.  A  History-painter 
paints  man  in  general ;  a  Portrait-painter,  a  particular  man, 
and  consequently  a  defective  model. 

Thus  an  habitual  practice  in  the  lower  exercises  of  the 
art  will  prevent  many  from  attaining  the  greater.  But 
such  of  us  who  move  in  these  humbler  walks  of  the  profes- 
sion, are  not  ignorant  that,  as  the  natural  dignity  of  the 
subject  is  less,  the  more  all  the  little  ornamental  helps  are 
necessary  to  its  embellishment.  It  would  be  ridiculous  for 
a  painter  of  domestic  scenes,  of  portraits,  landscapes,  ani- 
mals, or  still  life,  to  say  that  he  despised  those  qualities 
which  has  made  the  subordinate  schools  so  famous.  The 
art  of  coloring,  and  the  skillful  management  of  light  and 
shadow,  are  essential  requisites  in  his  confined  labors.  If 
we  descend  still  lower,  what  is  the  painter  of  fruit  and 
flowers  without  the  utmost  art  in  coloring,  and  what  the 
painters  call  handling ;  that  is,  a  lightness  of  pencil  that 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


05 


implies  great  practice,  and  gives  the  appearance  of  being 
done  with  ease  ?  Some  here,  I  believe,  must  remember  a 
flower-painter  whose  boast  it  was,  that  he  scorned  to  paint 
for  the  million:  no,  he  professed  to  paint  in  the  true 
Italian  taste ;  and,  despising  the  crowd,  called  strenuously 
upon  the  few  to  admire  him.  His  idea  of  the  Italian 
taste  was  to  paint  as  black  and  dirty  as  he  could,  and  to 
leave  all  clearness  and  brilliancy  of  coloring  to  those  who 
were  fonder  of  money  than  immortality.  The  consequence 
was  such  as  might  be  expected.  For  these  petty  excellen- 
cies are  here  essential  beauties ;  and  without  this  merit  the 
artist's  work  will  be  more  short-lived  than  the  objects  of 
his  imitation. 

From  what  has  been  advanced,  we  must  now  be  con- 
vinced that  there  are  two  distinct  styles  in  history-paint- 
ing; the  grand,  and  the  splendid  or  ornamental. 

The  great  style  stands  alone,  and  does  not  require, 
perhaps  does  not  so  well  admit,  any  addition  from  inferior 
beauties.  The  ornamental  style  also  possesses  its  own 
peculiar  merit.  However,  though  the  union  of  the  two 
may  make  a  sort  of  composite  style,  yet  that  style  is  likely 
to  be  more  imperfect  than  either  of  those  which  go  to  its 
composition.  Both  kinds  have  merit,  and  may  be  excel- 
lent though  in  different  ranks,  if  uniformity  be  preserved, 
and  the  general  and  particular  ideas  of  nature  be  not 
mixed.  Even  the  meanest  of  them  is  difficult  enough  to 
attain ;  and  the  first  place  being  already  occupied  by  the 
great  artists  in  each  department,  some  of  those  who  fol- 
lowed thought  there  was  less  room  for  them ;  and  feeling 
the  impulse  of  ambition  and  the  desire  of  novelty,  and 
being  at  the  same  time,  perhaps,  willing  to  take  the  short- 
est way,  endeavored  to  make  for  themselves  a  place  be- 

G* 


66 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


tween  both.  This  they  have  effected  by  forming  an  union 
of  the  different  orders.  But  as  the  grave  and  majestic 
style  would  suffer  by  an  union  with  the  florid  and  gay,  so 
also  has  the  Venetian  ornament  in  some  respect  been  in- 
jured by  attempting  an  alliance  with  simplicity. 

It  may  be  asserted,  that  the  great  style  is  always  more 
or  less  contaminated  by  any  meaner  mixture.  But  it  hap- 
pens in  a  few  instances  that  the  lower  may  be  improved  by 
borrowing  from  the  grand.  Thus  if  a  portrait-painter  is 
desirous  to  raise  and  improve  his  subject,  he  has  no  other 
means  than  by  approaching  it  to  a  general  idea.  He  leaves 
out  all  the  minute  breaks  and  peculiarities  in  the  face,  and 
changes  the  dress  from  a  temporary  fashion  to  one  more 
permanent,  which  has  annexed  to  it  no  ideas  of  meanness 
from  its  being  familiar  to  us.  But  if  an  exact  resemblance 
of  an  individual  be  considered  as  the  sole  object  to  be 
aimed  at,  the  portrait-painter  will  be  apt  to  lose  more  than 
he  gains  by  the  acquired  dignity  taken  from  general  na- 
ture. It  is  very  difficult  to  ennoble  the  character  of  a 
countenance  but  at  the  expense  of  the  likeness,  which  is 
what  is  most  generally  required  by  such  as  sit  to  the 
painter. 

Of  those  wbo  have  practised  the  composite  style,  and 
have  succeeded  in  this  perilous  attempt,  perhaps  the  fore- 
most is  Correggio.  His  style  is  founded  upon  modern 
grace  and  elegance,  to  which  is  superadded  something  of 
the  simplicity  of  the  grand  style.  A  breadth  of  light  and 
color,  the  general  ideas  of  the  drapery,  an  uninterrupted 
flow  of  outline,  all  conspire  to  this  effect.  Next  to  him, 
(perhaps  equal  to  him,)  Parmegiano  has  dignified  the  gen- 
teelness  of  modern  effeminacy,  by  uniting  it  with  th^  sim- 
plicity of  the  ancients  and  the  grandeur  and  severity  of 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


07 


Michael  Angelo.  It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that 
these  two  extraordinary  men,  by  endeavoring  to  give  the 
utmost  degree  of  grace,  have  sometimes  perhaps  exceeded 
its  boundaries,  and  have  fallen  into  the  most  hateful  of  all 
hateful  qualities — affectation.  Indeed,  it  is  the  peculiar 
characteristic  of  men  of  genius  to  be  afraid  of  coldness 
and  insipidity,  from  which  they  think  they  never  can  be 
too  far  removed.  It  particularly  happens  to  these  great 
masters  of  grace  and  elegance.  They  often  boldly  drive 
on  to  the  very  verge  of  ridicule ;  the  spectator  is  alarmed, 
but  at  the  same  time  admires  their  vigor  and  intrepidity : — 

Strange  graces  still,  and  stranger  flights  they  had, 

Yet  ne'er  so  sure  our  passion  to  create, 

As  when  they  touch'd  the  brink  of  all  we  hate. 

The  errors  of  genius,  however,  are  pardonable,  and 
none  even  of  the  more  exalted  painters  are  wholly  free 
from  them  j  but  they  have  taught  us,  by  the  rectitude  of 
their  general  practice,  to  correct  their  own  affected  or  acci- 
dental deviation.  The  very  first  have  not  been  always 
upon  their  guard,  and  perhaps  there  is  not  a  fault  but 
what  may  take  shelter  under  the  most  venerable  authori- 
ties ;  yet  that  style  only  is  perfect,  in  which  the  noblest 
principles  are  uniformly  pursued ;  and  those  masters  only 
are  entitled  to  the  first  rank  in  our  estimation  who  have 
enlarged  the  boundaries  of  their  art,  and  have  raised  it  to 
its  highest  dignity,  by  exhibiting  the  general  ideas  of 
nature. 

On  the  whole,  it  seems  to  me  that  there  is  but  one  pre- 
siding principle  which  regulates  and  gives  stability  to  every 


68 


THE  FOURTH  DISCOURSE. 


art.  The  works,  whether  of  poets,  painters,  moralists,  or 
historians,  which  are  built  upon  general  nature,  live  for 
ever ;  while  those  which  depend  for  their  existence  on  par- 
ticular customs  and  habits,  a  partial  view  of  nature,  or  the 
fluctuation  of  fashion,  can  only  be  coeval  with  that  which 
first  raised  them  from  obscurity.  Present  time  and  future 
may  be  considered  as  rivals ;  and  he  who  solicits  the  one 
must  expect  to  be  discountenanced  by  the  other. 


DISCOURSE  V. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  10,  1772. 

Circumspection  required  in  endeavoring  to  unite  contrary  excellencies. — The 
expression  of  a  mixed  passion  not  to  be  attempted. — Examples  of  those  who 
excelled  in  the  great  style. — Raffaelle,  Michael  Angelo,  those  two  extraordinary 
men  compared  with  each  other. — The  characteristical  style. — Salvator  Eosa 
mentioned  as  an  example  of  that  6tyle ;  and  opposed  to  Carlo  Maratti. — Sketch 
of  the  charaoters  of  Poussin  and  Eubens. — These  two  painters  entirely  dissim- 
ilar, but  consistent  with  themselves. — This  consistency  required  in  all  parts  of 
the  Art. . 

GENTLEMEN, 

I  purpose  to  carry  on  in  this  discourse  the  subject 
which  I  began  in  my  last.  It  was  my  wish  upon  that 
occasion  to  incite  you  to  pursue  the  higher  excellencies 
of  the  art.  But  I  fear  that  in  this  particular  I  have  been 
misunderstood.  Some  are  ready  to  imagine,  when  any  of 
their  favorite  acquirements  in  the  art  are  properly  classed, 
that  they  are  utterly  disgraced.  This  is  a  very  great  mis- 
take :  nothing  has  its  proper  lustre  but  in  its  proper  place. 
That  which  is  most  worthy  of  esteem  in  its  allotted  sphere, 
becomes  an  object,  not  of  respect,  but  of  derision,  when  it 
is  forced  into  a  higher,  to  which  it  is  not  suited ;  and  there 
it  becomes  doubly  a  source  of  disorder,  by  occupying  a  sit- 
uation which  is  not  natural  to  it,  and  by  putting  down 
from  the  first  place  what  is  in  reality  of  too  much  magni- 
tude to  become  with  grace  and  proportion  that  subordinate 
station,  to  which  something  of  less  value  would  be  much 
better  suited. 


70 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


My  advice,  in  a  word,  is  this  : — Keep  your  principal 
attention  fixed  upon  the  higher  excellencies.  If  you  com- 
pass them,  and  compass  nothing  more,  you  are  still  in  the 
first  class.  We  may  regret  the  innumerable  beauties  which 
you  may  want  j  you  may  be  very  imperfect :  but  still  you 
are  an  imperfect  artist  of  the  highest  order.  - 

If,  when  you  have  got  thus  far,  you  can  add  any,  or 
all,  of  the  subordinate  qualifications,  it  is  my  wish  and 
advice  that  you  should  not  neglect  them.  But  this  is  as 
much  a  matter  of  circumspection  and  caution  at  least,  as 
of  eagerness  and  pursuit. 

The  mind  is  apt  to  be  distracted  by  a  multiplicity  of 
objects;  and  that  scale  of  perfection  which  I  wish  always 
to  be  preserved,  is  in  the  greatest  danger  of  being  totally 
disordered,  and  even  inverted. 

Some  excellencies  bear  to  be  united,  and  are  improved 
by  union;  others  are  of  a  discordant  nature;  and  the 
attempt  to  join  them,  only  produces  a  harsh  jarring  of  in- 
congruent  principles.  The  attempt  to  unite  contrary  excel- 
lencies (of  form,  for  instance)  in  a  single  figure,  can  never 
escape  degenerating  into  the  monstrous,  but  by  sinking 
into  the  insipid ;  by  taking  away  its  marked  character,  and 
weakening  its  expression. 

This  remark  is  true  to  a  certain  degree  with  regard  to 
the  passions.  If  you  mean  to  preserve  the  most  perfect 
beauty  in  its  most  perfect  state,  you  can  not  express  the 
passions,  all  of  which  produce  distortion  and  deformity, 
more  or  less  in  the  most  beautiful  faces. 

Guido,  from  want  of  choice  in  adapting  his  subject  to 
his  ideas  and  his  powers,  or  from  attempting  to  preserve 
beauty  where  it  could  not  be  preserved,  has  in  this  respect 
succeeded  very  ill    His  figures  are  often  engaged  in  sub- 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


71 


jects  that  required  great  expression :  yet  his  Judith  and 
Hole-femes,  the  daughter  of  Herodias  with  the  Baptist's 
head,  the  Andromeda,  and  some  even  of  the  Mothers  of 
the  Innocents,  have  little  more  expression  than  his  Venus 
attired  by  the  Graces. 

Obvious  as  these  remarks  appear,  there  are  many  writers 
on  our  art,  who,  not  being  of  the  profession,  and  conse- 
quently not  knowing  what  can  or  can  not  be  done,  have 
been  very  liberal  of  absurd  praises  in  their  descriptions  of 
favorite  works.  They  always  find  in  them  what  they  are 
resolved  to  find.  They  praise  excellencies  that  can  hardly 
exist  together ;  and,  above  all  things,  are  fond  of  describ- 
ing, with  great  exactness,  the  expression  of  a  mixed  pas- 
sion, which  more  particularly  appears  to  me  out  of  the 
reach  of  our  art. 

Such  are  many  disquisitions  which  I  have  read  on  some 
of  the  Cartoons  and  other  pictures  of  Raffaelle,  where  the 
critics  have  described  their  own  imaginations;  or,  indeed, 
where  the  excellent  master  himself  may  have  attempted 
this  expression  of  passions  above  the  powers  of  the  art, 
and  has,  therefore,  by  an  indistinct  and  imperfect  marking, 
left  room  for  every  imagination,  with  equal  probability  to 
find  a  passion  of  his  own.  What  has  been,  and  what  can 
be  done  in  the  art,  is  sufficiently  difficult ;  we  need  not  be 
mortified  or  discouraged  at  not  being  able  to  execute  the 
conceptions  of  a  romantic  imagination.  Art  has  its  boun- 
daries, though  imagination  has  none.  We  can  easily,  like 
the  ancients,  suppose  a  Jupiter  to  be  possessed  of  all  those 
powers  and  perfections  which  the  subordinate  deities  were 
endowed  with  separately.  Yet,  when  they  employed  their 
art  to  represent  him,  they  confined  his  character  to  majesty 
alone.    Pliny,  therefore,  though  we  are  under  great  obli- 


72 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


gations  to  him  for  the  information  lie  lias  given  us  in 
relation  to  the  works  of  the  ancient  artists,  is  very  fre- 
quently wrong  when  he  speaks  of  them,  which  he  does 
very  often,  in  the  style  of  many  of  our  modern  connoisseurs. 
He  observes,  that  in  a  statue  of  Paris,  by  Euphranor,  you 
might  discover,  at  the  same  time,  three  different  characters ; 
the  dignity  of  a  Judge  of  the  Goddesses,  the  Lover  of 
Helen,  and  the  Conqueror  of  Achilles.  A  statue,  in  which 
you  endeavor  to  unite  stately  dignity,  youthful  elegance, 
and  stern  valor,  must  surely  possess  none  of  these  to  any 
eminent  degree. 

From  hence  it  appears,  that  there  is  much  difficulty,  as 
well  as  danger,  in  an  endeavor  to  concentrate,  in  a  single 
subject,  those  various  powers,  which,  rising  from  different 
points,  naturally  move  in  different  directions. 

The  summit  of  excellence  seems  to  be  an  assemblage 
of  contrary  qualities,  but  mixed  in  such  proportions,  that 
no  one  part  is  found  to  counteract  the  other.  How  hard 
this  is  to  be  attained  in  every  art,  those  only  know  who 
have  made  the  greatest  progress  in  their  respective  profes- 
sions. 

To  conclude  what  I  have  to  say  on  this  part  of  the 
subject,  which  I  think  of  great  importance,  I  wish  you  to 
understand,  that  I  do  not  discourage  the  younger  Students 
from  the  noble  attempt  of  uniting  all  the  excellencies  of 
art ;  but  suggest  to  them,  that,  beside  the  difficulties  which 
attend  every  arduous  attempt,  there  is  a  peculiar  difficulty 
in  the  choice  of  the  excellencies  which  ought  to  be  united. 
I  wish  to  attend  to  this,  that  you  may  try  yourselves, 
whenever  you  are  capable  of  that  trial,  what  you  can  and 
what  you  can  not  do ;  and  that,  instead  of  dissipating  your 
natural  faculties  over  the  immense  field  of  possible  excel- 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


7:J 


lence,  you  may  choose  some  particular  walk  iu  which  you 
may  exercise  all  your  powers,  in  order  that  each  of  you 
may  become  the  first  in  his  way.  If  any  man  shall  be 
master  of  such  a  transcendant,  commanding,  and  ductile 
genius,  as  to  enable  him  to  rise  to  the  highest,  and  to  stoop 
to  the  lowest,  flights  of  art,  and  to  sweep  over  all  of  them, 
unobstructed  and  secure,  he  is  fitter  to  give  example  than 
to  receive  instruction. 

Having  said  thus  much  on  the  union  of  excellencies,  I 
will  next  say  something  of  the  subordination  in  which  va- 
rious excellencies  ought  to  be  kept. 

I  am  of  opinion,  that  the  ornamental  style,  which,  in 
my  discourse  of  last  year,  I  cautioned  you  against  consid- 
ering as  principal,  may  not  be  wholly  unworthy  the  atten- 
tion even  of  those  who  aim  at  the  grand  style,  when  it  is 
properly  placed  and  properly  reduced. 

But  this  study  will  be  used  with  far  better  effect,  if  its 
principles  are  employed  in  softening  the  harshness  and 
mitigating  the  rigor  of  the  great  style,  than  if  it  attempt 
to  stand  forward  with  any  pretensions  of  its  own,  to  posi- 
tive and  original  excellence.  It  was  thus  Ludovico  Caracci, 
whose  example  I  formerly  recommended  to  you,  employed 
it.  He  was  acquainted  with  the  works  both  of  Correggio 
and  the  Venetian  painters,  and  knew  the  principles  by 
which  they  produced  those  pleasing  effects,  which,  at  the 
first  glance,  prepossesses  us  so  much  in  their  favor ;  but  he 
took  only  as  much  from  each  as  would  embellish,  but  not 
overpower,  that  manly  strength  and  energy  of  style,  which 
is  his  peculiar  character. 

Since  I  have  already  expatiated  so  largely  in  my  former 
discourse,  and  in  my  present,  upon  the  styles  and  charac- 
ters of  Painting,  it  will  not  be  at  all  unsuitable  to  my 
7 


74 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


subject,  if  I  mention  to  you  some  particulars  relative  to 
the  leading  principles,  and  capital  works,  of  those  who 
excelled  in  the  great  style,  that  I  may  bring  you  from 
abstraction  nearer  to  practice,  and  by  exemplifying  the 
positions  which  I  have  laid  down,  enable  you  to  understand 
more  clearly  what  I  would  enforce. 

The  principal  works  of  modern  art  are  in  Fresco,  a 
mode  of  painting  which  excludes  attention  to  minute 
elegancies :  yet  these  works  in  Fresco,  are  the  productions 
on  which  the  fame  of  the  greatest  masters  depends.  Such 
are  the  pictures  of  Michael  Angelo  and  Raflaelle  in  the 
Vatican;  to  which  we  may  add  the  Cartoons;  which, 
though  not  strictly  to  be  called  Fresco,  yet  may  be  put 
under  that  denomination ;  and  such  are  the  works  of  Griulio 
Romano  at  Mantua.  If  these  performances  were  destroyed, 
with  them  would  be  lost  the  best  part  of  the  reputation  of 
those  illustrious  painters;  for  these  are  justly  considered 
as  the  greatest  effort  of  our  art  which  the  world  can  boast. 
To  these,  therefore,  we  should  principally  direct  our  atten- 
tion for  higher  excellencies.  As  for  the  lower  arts,  as  they 
have  been  once  discovered,  they  may  be  easily  attained  by 
those  possessed  of  the  former. 

Raffaelle,  who  stands  in  general  foremost  of  the  first 
painters,  owes  his  reputation,  as  I.  have  observed,  to  his 
excellence  in  the  higher  parts  of  the  art;  his  works  in 
Fresco,  therefore,  ought  to  be  the  first  object  of  our  study 
and  attention.  His  easel-works  stand  in  a  lower  degree 
of  estimation  :  for  though  he  continually,  to  the  day  of 
his  death,  embellished  his  performances  more  and  more 
with  the  addition  of  those  lower  ornaments,  which  entirely 
make  the  merit  of  some  painters,  yet  he  never  arrived  at 
such  perfection  as  to  make  him  an  object  of  imitation.  He 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


75 


never  was  able  to  conquer  perfectly  that  dryness,  or  even 
littleness  of  manner,  which  he  inherited  from  his  master. 
He  never  acquired  that  nicety  of  taste  in  colors,  that 
breadth  of  light  and  shadow,  that  art  and  management  of 
uniting  light  to  light,  and  shadow  to  shadow,  so  as  to  make 
the  object  rise  out  of  the  ground,  with  the  plenitude  of 
effect  so  much  admired  in  the  works  of  Correggio.  When 
he  painted  in  oil,  his  hand  seemed  to  be  so  cramped  and 
confined,  that  he  not  only  lost  that  facility  and  spirit,  but  I 
think  even  that  correctness  of  form,  which  is  so  perfect 
and  admirable  in  his  Fresco-works.  I  do  not  recollect  any 
pictures  of  his  of  this  kind,  except  the  Transfiguration,  in 
which  there  are  not  some  parts  that  appear  to  be  even 
feebly  drawn.  That  this  is  not  a  necessary  attendant  on 
Oil-painting,  we  have  abundant  instances  in  more  modern 
painters.  Ludovico  Caracci,  for  instance,  preserved  in  his 
works  in  oil  the  same  spirit,  vigor,  and  correctness  which 
he  had  in  Fresco.  I  have  no  desire  to  degrade  Raffaelle 
from  the  high  rank  which  he  deservedly  holds;  but  by 
comparing  him  with  himself,  he  does  not  appear  to  me  to 
be  the  same  man  in  Oil  as  in  Fresco. 

From  those  who  have  ambition  to  tread  in  this  great 
walk  of  the  art,  Michael  Angelo  claims  the  next  attention. 
He  did  not  possess  so  many  excellencies  as  Raffaelle,  but 
those  which  he  had  were  of  the  highest  kind.  He  consid- 
ered the  art  as  consisting  of  little  more  than  what  may  be  at- 
tained by  sculpture ;  correctness  of  form,  and  energy  of  char- 
acter. We  ought  not  to  expect  more  than  an  artist  intends 
in  his  work.  He  never  attempted  those  lesser  elegancies 
and  graces  in  the  art.  Vasari  says,  he  never  painted  but 
one  picture  in  oil,  and  resolved  never  to  paint  another,  say- 
ing it  was  an  employment  only  fit  for  women  and  children. 


76 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


If  any  man  had  a  right  to  look  down  upon  the  lower 
accomplishments  as  beneath  his  attention,  it  was  certainly 
Michael  Angelo ;  nor  can  it  be  thought  strange,  that  such 
a  mind  should  have  slighted  or  have  been  withheld  from 
paying  due  attention  to  all  those  graces  and  embellishments 
of  art,  which  have  diffused  such  lustre  over  the  works  of 
other  painters. 

It  must  be  acknowledged,  however,  that  together  with 
these,  which  we  wish  he  had  more  attended  to,  he  has 
rejected  all  the  false,  though  specious  ornaments,  which 
disgrace  the  works  even  of  the  most  esteemed  artists ;  and, 
I  will  venture  to  say,  that  when  those  higher  excellencies 
are  more  known  and  cultivated  by  the  artists  and  patrons 
of  arts,  his  fame  and  credit  will  increase  with  our  in- 
creasing knowledge.  His  name  will  then  be  held  in  the 
same  veneration  as  it  was  in  the  enlightened  age  of  Leo 
the  Tenth :  and  it  is  remarkable  that  the  reputation  of  this 
truly  great  man  has  been  continually  declining  as  the  art 
itself  has  declined.  For  I  must  remark  to  you,  that  it  has 
long  been  much  on  the  decline,  and  that  our  only  hope  of 
its  revival  will  consist  in  your  being  thoroughly  sensible  of 
its  deprivation  and  decay.  It  is  to  Michael  Angelo  that 
we  owe  even  the  existence  of  Raffaelle ;  it  is  to  him  that 
Raffaelle  owes  the  grandeur  of  his  style.  He  was  taught 
by  him  to  elevate  his  thoughts,  and  to  conceive  his  subjects 
with  dignity.  His  genius,  however,  formed  to  blaze  and 
shine,  might,  like  fire  in  combustible  matter,  for  ever  have 
lain  dormant,  if  it  had  not  caught  a  spark  by  its  contact 
with  Michael  Angelo ;  and  though  it  never  burst  out  with 
his  extraordinary  heat  and  vehemence,  yet  it  must  be  ac- 
knowledged to  be  a  more  pure,  regular,  and  chaste  flame. 
Though  our  judgment  must,  upon  the  whole,  decide  in 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


77 


favor  of  Raffaelle,  yet  he  never  takes  such  a  firm  hold  and 
entire  possession  of  the  mind  as  to  make  us  desire  nothing 
else,  and  to  feel  nothing  wanting.  The  effect  of  the  capi- 
tal works  of  Michael  Angelo  perfectly  corresponds  to  what 
Bouchardon  said  he  felt  from  reading  Homer )  his  whole 
frame  appeared  to  himself  to  be  enlarged,  and  all  nature 
which  surrounded  him,  diminished  to  atoms. 

If  we  put  these  great  artists  in  a  light  of  comparison 
with  each  other,  Raffaelle  had  more  Taste  and  Fancy ;  Mi- 
chael Angelo,  more  Genius  and  Imagination.  The  one 
excelled  in  beauty,  the  other  in  energy.  Michael  Angelo 
has  more  of  the  poetical  Inspiration ;  his  ideas  are  vast 
and  sublime ;  his  people  are  a  superior  order  of  beings ; 
there  is  nothing  about  them,  nothing  in  the  air  of  their 
actions,  or  their  attitudes,  or  the  style  and  cast  of  their 
limbs  or  features,  that  reminds  us  of  their  belonging  to 
our  own  species.  Raffaelle's  imagination  is  not  so  ele- 
vated; his  figures  are  not  so  much  disjoined  from  our  own 
diminutive  race  of  beings,  though  his  ideas  are  chaste, 
noble,  and  of  great  conformity  to  their  subjects.  Michael 
Angelo' s  works  have  a  strong,  peculiar,  and  marked  char- 
acter ;  they  seem  to  proceed  from  his  own  mind  entirely, 
and  that  mind  so  rich  and  abundant,  that  he  never  needed, 
or  seemed  to  disdain,  to  look  abroad  for  foreign  help. 
Raffaelle's  materials  are  generally  borrowed,  though  the 
noble  structure  is  his  own.  The  excellency  of  this  extra- 
ordinary man  lay  in  the  propriety,  beauty,  and  majesty  of 
his  characters,  the  judicious  contrivance  of  his  Composi- 
tion, his  correctness  of  Drawing,  purity  of  Taste,  and 
skillful  accommodation  of  other  men's  conceptions  to  his 
own  purpose.  Nobody  excelled  him  in  that  judgment, 
with  which  he  united  to  his  own  observations  on  Nature, 
7* 


78 


THE  EIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


the  energy  of  Michael  Angelo,  and  the  Beauty  and  Sim- 
plicity of  the  Antique.  To  the  question,  therefore,  which 
ought  to  hold  the  first  rank,  Raffaelle  or  Michael  Angelo, 
it  must  be  answered,  that  if  it  is  to  be  given  to  him  who 
possessed  a  greater  combination  of  the  higher  qualities  of 
the  art  than  any  other  man,  there  is  no  doubt  but  BafFaelle 
is  the  first.  But  if,  as  Longinus  thinks,  the  sublime, 
being  the  highest  excellence  that  human  composition  can 
attain  to,  abundantly  compensates  the  absence  of  every 
other  beauty,  and  atones  for  all  other  deficiencies,  then 
Michael  Angelo  demands  the  preference. 

These  two  extraordinary  men  carried  some  of  the 
higher  excellencies  of  the  art  to  a  greater  degree  of  per- 
fection than  probably  they  ever  arrived  at  before.  They 
certainly  have  not  been  excelled,  nor  equalled  since. 
Many  of  their  successors  were  induced  to  leave  this  great 
road  as  a  beaten  path,  endeavoring  to  surprise  and  please 
by  something  uncommon  or  new.  When  this  desire  of 
novelty  has  proceeded  from  mere  idleness  or  caprice,  it  is 
not  worth  the  trouble  of  criticism ;  but  when  it  has  been 
the  result  of  a  busy  mind  of  a  peculiar  complexion,  it  is 
always  striking  and  interesting,  never  insipid. 

Such  is  the  great  style,  as  it  appears  in  those  who  pos- 
sessed it  at  its  height :  in  this,  search  after  novelty,  in 
conception  or  in  treating  the  subject,  has  no  place. 

But  there  is  another  style,  which,  though  inferior  to 
the  former,  has  still  great  merit,  because  it  shows  that 
those  who  cultivated  it  were  men  of  lively  and  vigorous 
imagination.  This,  which  may  be  called  the  original  or 
characteristical  style,  being  less  referred  to  any  true  arche- 
type existing  either  in  general  or  particular  nature,  must 
be  supported  by  the  painter's  consistency  in  the  principles 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


79 


which  he  has  assumed,  and  in  the  union  and  harmony  of 
his  whole  design.  The  excellency  of  every  style,  but  of 
the  subordinate  styles  more  especially,  will  very  much  de- 
pend on  preserving  that  union  and  harmony  between  all 
the  component  parts,  that  they  may  appear  to  hang  well 
together,  as  if  the  whole  proceeded  from  one  mind.  It  is 
in  the  works  of  art  as  in  the  characters  of  men.  The 
faults  or  defects  of  some  men  seem  to  become  them,  when 
they  appear  to  be  the  natural  growth,  and  of  a  piece  with 
the  rest  of  their  character.  A  faithful  picture  of  a  mind, 
though  it  be  not  of  the  most  elevated  kind,  though  it  be 
irregular,  wild,  and  incorrect,  yet  if  it  be  marked  with  that 
spirit  and  firnmess  which  characterize  works  of  genius,  will 
claim  attention,  and  be  more  striking  than  a  combination 
of  excellencies  that  do  not  seem  to  unite  well  together ;  or 
we  may  say,  than  a  work  that  possesses  even  all  excellen- 
cies, but  those  in  a  moderate  degree. 

One  of  the  strongest-marked  characters  of  this  kind, 
which  must  be  allowed  to  be  subordinate  to  the  great  style, 
is  that  of  Salvator  Rosa.  He  gives  us  a  peculiar  cast  of 
nature,  which,  though  void  of  all  grace,  elegance,  and 
simplicity,  though  it  has  nothing  of  that  elevation  and 
dignity  which  belongs  to  the  grand  style,  yet  has  that  sort 
of  dignity  which  belongs  to  savage  and  uncultivated 
nature  :  but  what  is  most  to  be  admired  in  him,  is  the  per- 
fect correspondence  which  he  observed  between  the  sub- 
jects which  he  chose,  and  his  manner  of  treating  them. 
Every  thing  is  of  a  piece  :  his  Ilocks,  Trees,  Sky,  even  to 
his  handling,  have  the  same  rude  and  wild  character  which 
animates  his  figures. 

With  him  we  may  contrast  the  character  of  Carlo 
Maratti,  who,  in  my  opinion,  had  no  great  vigor  of  mind 


80 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


or  strength  of  original  genius.  He  rarely  seizes  the  imagi- 
nation by  exhibiting  the  higher  excellencies,  nor  does  he 
captivate  us  by  that  originality  which  attends  the  painter 
who  thinks  for  himself.  He  knew  and  practised  all  the 
rules  of  art,  and  from  a  composition  of  Raffaelle,  Caracci, 
and  Guido,  made  up  a  style,  of  which  the  only  fault  was, 
that  it  had  no  manifest  defects  and  no  striking  beauties ; 
and  that  the  principles  of  his  composition  are  never  blend- 
ed together  so  as  to  form  one  uniform  body  original  in  its 
kind,  or  excellent  in  any  view. 

I  will  mention  two  other  painters,  who,  though  entirely 
dissimilar,  yet  by  being  each  consistent  with  himself,  and 
possessing  a  manner  entirely  his  own,  have  both  gained 
reputation,  though  for  very  opposite  accomplishments. 
The  painters  I  mean  are  Rubens  and  Poussin.  Rubens  I 
mention  in  this  place,  as  I  think  him  a  remarkable  instance 
of  the  same  mind  being  seen  in  all  the  various  parts  of  the 
art.  The  whole  is  so  much  of  a  piece,  that  one  can  scarce 
be  brought  to  believe  but  that  if  any  one  of  the  qualities 
he  possessed  had  been  more  correct  and  perfect,  his  works 
would  not  have  been  so  complete  as  they  now  appear.  If 
we  should  allow  him  a  greater  purity  and  correctness  of 
Drawing,  his  want  of  Simplicity  in  Composition,  Coloring, 
and  Drapery,  would  appear  more  gross. 

In  his  Composition  his  art  is  too  apparent.  His  figures 
have  expression,  and  act  with  energy,  but  without  sim- 
plicity or  dignity.  His  coloring,  in  which  he  is  eminently 
skilled,  is  notwithstanding  too  much  of  what  we  call 
tinted.  Throughout  the  whole  of  his  works,  there  is  a 
proportionable  want  of  that  nicety  of  distinction  and  ele- 
gance of  mind,  which  is  required  in  the  higher  walks  of 
painting :  and  to  this  want  it  may  be  in  some  degree 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


81 


ascribed,  that  those  qualities  which  make  the  excellency  of 
this  subordinate  style  appear  in  him  with  their  greatest 
lustre.  Indeed  the  facility  with  which  he  invented,  the 
richness  of  his  composition,  the  luxuriant  harmony  and 
brilliancy  of  his  coloring,  so  dazzle  the  eye,  that  whilst  his 
works  continue  before  us,  we  cannot  help  thinking  that  all 
his  deficiencies  are  fully  supplied.* 

Opposed  to  this  florid,  careless,  loose,  and  inaccurate 
style,  that  of  the  simple,  careful,  pure,  and  correct  style  of 
Poussin,  seems  to  be  a  complete  contrast.  Yet  however 
opposite  their  characters,  in  one  thing  they  agreed ;  both 
of  them  always  preserving  a  perfect  correspondence  be- 
tween all  the  parts  of  their  respective  manners  ;  insomuch 
that  it  may  be  doubted  whether  any  alteration  of  what  is 
considered  as  defective  in  either,  would  not  destroy  the 
effect  of  the  whole. 

Poussin  lived  and  conversed  with  the  ancient  statues  so 
long,  that  he  may  be  said  to  have  been  better  acquainted 
with  them  than  with  the  people  who  were  about  him.  I 
have  often  thought  that  he  carried  his  veneration  for  them 
so  far  as  to  wish  to  give  his  works  the  air  of  Ancient 
Paintings.  It  is  certain  he  copied  some  of  the  Antique 
Paintings,  particularly  the  Marriage  in  the  Aldobrandini 
Palace  at  Rome,  which  I  believe  to  be  the  best  relic  of 
those  remote  ages  that  has  yet  been  found. 

No  works  of  any  modern  have  so  much  the  air  of  An- 
tique Painting  as  those  of  Poussin.  His  best  performan- 
ces have  a  remarkable  dryness  of  manner,  which  though 
by  no  means  to  be  recommended  for  imitation,  yet  seems 
perfectly  correspondent  to  that  ancient  simplicity  which 

*A  more  detailed  character  of  Rubens  may  be  found  in  the 
"Journey  to  Flanders  and  Holland,"  near  the  conclusion.— M 


82 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


distinguishes  his  style.  Like  Polidoro  he  studied  the  an- 
cients so  much  that  he  acquired  a  habit  of  thinking  in 
their  way,  and  seemed  to  know  perfectly  the  actions  and 
gestures  they  would  use  on  every  occasion. 

Poussin  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life  changed  from  his 
dry  manner  to  one  much  softer  and  richer,  where  there  is  a 
greater  union  between  the  figures  and  ground ;  as  in  the 
Seven  Sacraments  in  the  Ihike  of  Orleans's  collection ; 
but  neither  these,  or  any  of  his  other  pictures  in  this  man- 
ner,  are  at  all  comparable  to  many  in  this  dry  manner 
which  we  have  in  England. 

The  favorite  subjects  of  Poussin  were  Ancient  Fables; 
and  no  painter  was  ever  better  qualified  to  paint  such  sub- 
jects, not  only  from  his  being  eminently  skilled  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  ceremonies,  customs,  and  habits  of  the 
Ancients,  but  from  his  being  so  well  acquainted  with  the 
different  characters  which  those  who  invented  them  gave  to 
their  allegorical  figures.  Though  Rubens  has  shown  great 
fancy  in  his  Satyrs,  Silenuses,  and  Fauns,  yet  they  are  not 
that  distinct,  separate  class  of  beings,  which  is  carefully 
exhibited  by  the  Ancients,  and  by  Poussin.  Certainly, 
when  such  subjects  of  antiquity  are  represented,  nothing 
in  the  picture  ought  to  remind  us  of  modern  times.  The 
mind  is  thrown  back  into  antiquity,  and  nothing  ought  to 
be  introduced  that  may  tend  to  awaken  it  from  the  illusion. 

Poussin  seemed  to  think  that  the  style  and  the  lan- 
guage in  which  such  stories  are  told,  is  not  the  worse  for 
preserving  some  relish  of  the  old  way  of  painting,  which 
seemed  to  give  a  general  uniformity  to  the  whole,  so  that 
the  mind  was  thrown  back  into  antiquity  not  only  by  the 
subject,  but  the  execution. 

If  Poussin,  in  imitation  of  the  Ancients,  represents 


the  Firm  discourse. 


83 


Apollo  driving  his  chariot  out  of  the  sea  by  way  of  repre- 
senting the  Sun  rising,  if  he  personifies  Lakes  and  Rivers, 
it  is  nowise  offensive  in  him )  but  seems  perfectly  of  a 
piece  with  the  general  air  of  the  picture.  On  the  con- 
trary, if  the  figures  which  people  his  pictures  had  a 
modern  air  or  countenance,  if  they  appeared  like  our  coun- 
trymen, if  the  draperies  were  like  cloth  or  silk  of  our 
manufacture,  if  the  landscape  had  the  appearance  of  a 
modern  view,  how  ridiculous  would  Apollo  appear  instead 
of  the  Sun ;  and  an  old  Man,  or  a  nymph  with  an  urn,  to 
represent  a  River  or  a  Lake  ? 

I  can  not  avoid  mentioning  here  a  circumstance  in  por- 
trait-painting, which  may  help  to  confirm  what  has  been 
said.  When  a  portrait  is  painted  in  the  Historical  Style, 
as  it  is  neither  an  exact  minute  representation  of  an  indi- 
vidual, nor  completely  ideal,  every  circumstance  ought  to 
correspond  to  this  mixture.  The  simplicity  of  the  antique 
air  and  attitude,  however  much  to  be  admired,  is  ridiculous 
when  joined  to  a  figure  in  a  modern  dress.  It  is  not  to 
my  purpose  to  enter  into  the  question  at  present,  whether 
this  mixed  style  ought  to  be  adopted  or  not;  yet  if  it 
is  chosen,  it  is  necessary  it  should  be  complete,  and  all  of 
a  piece ;  the  difference  of  stuffs,  for  instance,  which  make 
the  clothing,  should  be  distinguished  in  the  same  degree  as 
the  head  deviates  from  a  general  idea.  Without  this 
union,  which  I  have  so  often  recommended,  a  work  can 
have  no  marked  and  determined  character,  which  is  the 
peculiar  and  constant  evidence  of  genius.  But  when  this 
is  accomplished  to  a  high  degree,  it  becomes  in  some  sort 
a  rival  to  that  style  which  we  have  fixed  as  the  highest. 

Thus  I  have  given  a  sketch  of  the  characters  of  Ru- 
bens and  Salvator  Rosa,  as  they  appear  to  me  to  have  the 


84 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


greatest  uniformity  of  mind  throughout  their  whole  work. 
But  we  may  add  to  these,  all  those  Artists  who  are  at  the 
head  of  a  class,  and  have  had  a  school  of  imitators  from 
Michael  Angelo  down  to  Watteau.  Upon  the  whole  it 
appears  that,  setting  aside  the  Ornamental  Style,  there  are 
two  different  modes,  either  of  which  a  Student  may  adopt 
without  degrading  the  dignity  of  his  art.  The  object  of 
the  first,  is  to  combine  the  higher  excellencies  and  embel- 
lish them  to  the  greatest  advantage  :  of  the  other,  to  carry 
one  of  these  excellencies  to  the  highest  degree.  But  those 
who  possess  neither,  must  be  classed  with  them,  who,  as 
Shakspeare  says,  are  men  of  no  mark  or  likelihood. 

I  inculcate  as  frequently  as  I  can  your  forming  your- 
selves upon  great  principles  and  great  models.  Your  time 
will  be  much  mis-spent  in  every  other  pursuit.  Small 
excellencies  should  be  viewed,  not  studied ;  they  ought  to 
be  viewed,  because  nothing  ought  to  escape  a  Painter's 
observation :  but  for  no  other  reason. 

There  is  another  caution  which  I  wish  to  give  you. 
Be  as  select  in  those  whom  you  endeavor  to  please,  as  in 
those  whom  you  endeavor  to  imitate.  Without  the  love 
of  fame  you  can  never  do  any  thing  excellent :  but  by  an 
excessive  and  undistinguishing  thirst  after  it,  you  will 
come  to  have  vulgar  views ;  you  will  degrade  your  style ; 
and  your  taste  will  be  entirely  corrupted.  It  is  certain 
that  the  lowest  style  will  be  the  most  popular,  as  it  falls 
within  the  compass  of  ignorance  itself;  and  the  Vulgar 
will  always  be  pleased  with  what  is  natural,  in  the  con- 
fined and  misunderstood  sense  of  the  word. 

One  would  wish  that  such  depravation  of  taste  should 
be  counteracted  with  that  manly  pride  which  actuated 
Euripides  when  he  said  to  the  Athenians  who  criticised 


THE  FIFTH  DISCOURSE. 


85 


his  works,  "I  do  not  compose  my  works  in  order  to  be 
corrected  by  you,  but  to  instruct  you."  It  is  true,  to  have 
a  right  to  speak  thus,  a  man  must  be  an  Euripides.  How- 
ever, thus  much  may  be  allowed,  that  when  an  Artist  is 
sure  that  he  is  upon  firm  ground,  supported  by  the  authori- 
ty and  practice  of  his  predecessors  of  the  greatest  reputa- 
tion, he  may  then  assume  the  boldness  and  intrepidity  of 
genius ;  at  any  rate  he  must  not  be  tempted  out  of  the 
right  path  by  any  allurement  of  popularity,  which  always 
accompanies  the  lower  styles  of  painting. 

I  mention  this,  because  our  Exhibitions,  while  they  pro- 
duce such  admirable  effects  by  nourishing  emulation,  and 
calling  out  genius,  have  also  a  mischievous  tendency,  by 
seducing  the  Painter  to  an  ambition  of  pleasing  indiscrimi- 
nately the  mixed  multitude  of  people  who  resort  to  them. 


8 


DISCOURSE  VI. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  10,  1774. 

Imitation. — Genius  begins  where  rules  end. — Invention :  acquired  by  being  con- 
versant with  the  inventions  of  others. — The  true  method  of  imitating. — Bor- 
rowing— how  far  allowable. — Something  to  be  gathered  from  every  school. 

GENTLEMEN, 

When  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  addressing  you  on 
the  course  and  order  of  your  studies,  I  never  proposed  to 
enter  into  a  minute  detail  of  the  art.  This  I  have  always 
left  to  the  several  Professors,  who  pursue  the  end  of  our 
Institution  with  the  highest  honor  to  themselves,  and  with 
the  greatest  advantage  to  the  Students. 

My  purpose  in  the  discourses  I  have  held  in  the 
Academy  has  been  to  lay  down  certain  general  positions, 
which  seem  to  me  proper  for  the  formation  of  a  sound 
taste :  principles  necessary  to  guard  the  pupils  against 
those  errors  into  which  the  sanguine  temper  common  to 
their  time  of  life  has  a  tendency  to  lead  them  :  and  which 
have  rendered  abortive  the  hopes  of  so  many  successions 
of  promising  young  men  in  all  parts  of  Europe.  I  wished 
also,  to  intercept  and  suppress  those  prejudices  which  par- 
ticularly prevail  when  the  mechanism  of  painting  is  come 
to  its  perfection;  and  which,  when  they  do  prevail,  are 
certain  utterly  to  destroy  the  higher  and  more  valuable 
parts  of  this  literate  and  liberal  profession. 

These  two  have  been  my  principal  purposes ;  they  are 
still  as  much  my  concern  as  ever  j  and  if  I  repeat  my  own 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


87 


notions  on  the  subject,  you  who  know  how  fast  mistake 
and  prejudice,  when  neglected,  gain  ground  upon  truth  and 
reason,  will  easily  excuse  me.  I  only  attempt  to  set  the 
same  thing  in  the  greatest  variety  of  lights. 

The  subject  of  this  discourse  will  be  Imitation,  as  far 
as  a  painter  is  concerned  in  it.  By  imitation,  I  do  not 
mean  imitation  in  its  largest  sense,  but  simply  the  follow- 
ing of  other  masters,  and  the  advantage  to  be  drawn  from 
the  study  of  their  works. 

Those  who  have  undertaken  to  write  on  our  art,  and 
have  represented  it  as  a  kind  of  inspiration,  as  a  gift  be- 
stowed upon  peculiar  favorites  at  their  birth,  seem  to  insure 
a  much  more  favorable  disposition  from  their  readers,  and 
have  a  much  more  captivating  and  liberal  air,  than  he  who 
attempts  to  examine,  coldly,  whether  there  are  any  means 
by  which  this  art  may  be  acquired ;  how  the  mind  may  be 
strengthened  and  expanded,  and  what  guides  will  show  the 
way  to  eminence. 

It  is  very  natural  for  those  who  are  unacquainted  with 
the  cause  of  any  thing  extraordinary,  to  be  astonished  at 
the  effect,  and  to  consider  it  as  a  kind  of  magic.  They, 
who  have  never  observed  the  gradation  by  which  art  is 
acquired;  who  see  only  what  is  the  full  result  of  long 
labor  and  application  of  an  infinite  number  and  infinite  va- 
riety of  acts,  are  apt  to  conclude,  from  their  entire  ina- 
bility to  do  the  same  at  once,  that  it  is  not  only  inaccessible 
to  themselves,  but  can  be  done  by  those  only  who  have 
some  gift  of  the  nature  of  inspiration  bestowed  upon  them. 

The  travellers  into  the  East  tell  us,  that  when  the  ig- 
norant inhabitants  of  those  countries  are  asked  concerning 
the  ruins  of  stately  edifices  yet  remaining  amongst  them, 
the  melancholy  monuments  of  their  former  grandeur  and 


88 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


long-lost  science,  they  always  answer,  that  they  were  built 
by  magicians.  The  untaught  mind  finds  a  vast  gulf  be- 
tween its  own  powers  and  those  works  of  complicated  art, 
which  it  is  utterly  unable  to  fathom ;  and  it  supposes  that 
such  a  void  can  be  passed  only  by  supernatural  powers. 

And,  as  for  artists  themselves,  it  is  by  no  means  their 
interest  to  undeceive  such  judges,  however  conscious  they 
may  bo  of  the  very  natural  means  by  which  their  extraor- 
dinary powers  were  acquired;  though  our  art,  being  in- 
trinsically imitative,  rejects  this  idea  of  inspiration,  more 
perhaps  than  any  other. 

It  is  to  avoid  this  plain  confession  of  tne  truth,  as  it 
should  seem,  that  this  imitation  of  masters,  indeed  almost 
all  imitation,  which  implies  a  more  regular  and  progressive 
method  of  attaining  the  ends  of  painting,  has  ever  been 
particularly  inveighed  against  with  great  keenness,  both  by 
ancient  and  modern  writers. 

To  derive  all  from  native  power,  to  owe  nothing  to 
another,  is  the  praise  which  men  who  do  not  much  think 
on  what  they  are  saying,  bestow  sometimes  upon  others, 
and  sometimes  on  themselves;  and  their  imaginary  dignity 
is  naturally  heightened  by  a  supercilious  censure  of  the 
low,  the  barren,  the  groveling,  the  servile  imitator.  It 
would  be  no  wonder  if  a  Student,  frightened  by  these  ter- 
rific and  disgraceful  epithets,  with  which  the  poor  imitators 
are  so  often  loaded,  should  let  fall  his  pencil  in  mere 
despair ;  conscious  as  he  must  be,  how  much  he  has  been 
indebted  to  the  labors  of  others,  how  little,  how  very  little 
of  his  art  was  born  with  him ;  and  consider  it  as  hopeless, 
to  set  about  acquiring  by  the  imitation  of  any  human  mas- 
ter, what  he  is  taught  to  suppose  is  matter  of  inspiration 
from  heaven. 


THE   SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


89 


Some  allowance  must  be  made  for  what  is  said  in  the 
gaiety  of  rhetoric.  We  can  not  suppose  that  any  one  can 
really  mean  to  exclude  all  imitation  of  others.  A  position 
so  wild  would  scarce  deserve  a  serious  answer;  for  it  is 
apparent,  if  we  were  forbid  to  make  use  of  the  advantages 
which  our  predecessors  afford  us,  the  art  would  be  always 
to  begin,  and  consequently  remain  always  in  its  infant 
state ;  and  it  is  a  common  observation,  that  no  art  was  ever 
invented  and  carried  to  perfection  at  the  same  time. 

But  to  bring  us  entirely  to  reason  and  sobriety,  let  it  be 
observed,  that  a  painter  must  not  only  be  of  necessity  an 
imitator  of  the  works  of  nature,  which  alone  is  sufficient  to 
dispel  this  phantom  of  inspiration,  but  he  must  be  as  neces- 
sarily an  imitator  of  the  works  of  other  painters :  this  ap- 
pears more  humiliating,  but  is  equally  true ;  and  no  man 
can  be  an  artist,  whatever  he  may  suppose,  upon  any  other 
terms. 

However,  those  who  appear  more  moderate  and  reason- 
able, allow,  that  our  study  is  to  begin  by  imitation;  but 
maintain  that  we  should  no  longer  use  the  thoughts  of  our 
predecessors,  when  we  are  become  able  to  think  for  our- 
selves. They  hold  that  imitation  is  as  hurtful  to  the  more 
advanced  student,  as  it  was  advantageous  to  the  beginner. 

For  my  own  part,  I  confess,  I  am  not  only  very  much 
disposed  to  maintain  the  absolute  necessity  of  imitation  in 
the  first  stages  of  the  art;  but  am  of  opinion,  that  the  study 
of  other  masters,  which  I  here  call  imitation,  may  be  ex- 
tended throughout  our  whole  lives,  without  any  danger  of 
the  inconveniences  with  which  it  is  charged,  of  enfeebling 
the  mind,  or  preventing  us  from  giving  that  original  air 
which  every  work  undoubtedly  ought  always  to  have. 

I  am  on  the  contrary  persuaded  that  by  imitation  only, 
8* 


90 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


variety,  and  even  originality  of  invention,  is  produced.  I 
will  go  further ;  even  genius,  at  least  what  generally  is  so 
called,  is  the  child  of  imitation.  But  as  this  appears  to 
be  contrary  to  the  general  opinion,  I  must  explain  my 
position  before  I  enforce  it. 

Genius  is  supposed  to  be  a  power  of  producing  excel- 
lencies, which  are  out  of  the  reach  of  the  rules  of  art;  a 
power  which  no  precepts  can  teach,  and  which  no  industry 
can  acquire. 

This  opinion  of  the  impossibility  of  acquiring  those 
beauties,  which  stamp  the  work  with  the  character  of  ge- 
nius, supposes  that  it  is  something  more  fixed,  than  -in 
reality  it  is ;  and  that  we  always  do,  and  ever  did  agree  in 
opinion,  with  respect  to  what  should  be  considered  as  the 
characteristic  of  genius.  But  the  truth  is,  that  the  degree 
of  excellence  which  proclaims  Genius  is  different,  in  differ- 
ent times  and  different  places ;  and  what  shows  it  to  be  so 
is,  that  mankind  have  often  changed  their  opinion  upon 
this  matter. 

When  the  Arts  were  in  their  infancy,  the  power  of 
merely  drawing  the  likeness  of  any  object,  was  considered 
as  one  of  its  greatest  efforts.  The  common  people,  igno- 
rant of  the  principles  of  art,  talk  the  same  language  even 
to  this  day.  But  when  it  was  found  that  every  man  could 
be  taught  to  do  this,  and  a  great  deal  more,  merely  by  the 
observance  of  certain  precepts;  the  name  of  Genius  then 
shifted  its  application,  and  was  given  only  to  him  who 
added  the  peculiar  character  of  the  object  he  represented; 
to  him  who  had  invention,  expression,  grace,  or  dignity ;  in 
short,  those  qualities,  or  excellencies,  the  power  of  pro- 
ducing which,  could  not  then  be  taught  by  any  known  and 
promulgated  rules. 


THE   SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


91 


We  are  very  sure  that  the  beauty  of  form,  the  expres- 
sion of  the  passions,  the  art  of  composition,  even  the  power 
of  giving  a  general  air  of  grandeur  to  a  work,  is  at  present 
very  much  under  the  dominion  of  rules.  These  excellen- 
cies were,  heretofore,  considered  merely  as  the  effects  of 
genius  :  and  justly,  if  genius  is  not  taken  for  inspiration, 
but  as  the  effect  of  close  observation  and  experience. 

He  who  first  made  any  of  these  observations,  and 
digested  them,  so  as  to  form  an  invariable  principle  for 
himself  to  work  by,  had  that  merit,  but  probably  no  one 
went  very  far  at  once ;  and  generally,  the  first  who  gave 
the  hint,  did  not  know  how  to  pursue  it  steadily  and  me- 
thodically; at  least  not  in  the  beginning.  He  himself 
worked  on  it,  and  improved  it;  others  worked. more,  and 
improved  further ;  until  the  secret  was  discovered,  and  the 
practice  made  as  general  as  refined  practice  can  be  made. 
How  many  more  principles  may  be  fixed  and  ascertained, 
we  can  not  tell ;  but  as  criticism  is  likely  to  go  hand  in 
hand  with  the  art  which  is  its  subject,  we  may  venture  to 
say,  that  as  that  art  shall  advance,  its  powers  will  be  still 
more  and  more  fixed  by  rules. 

But  by  whatever  strides  criticism  may  gain  ground,  we 
need  be  under  no  apprehension  that  invention  will  ever  be 
annihilated,  or  subdued ;  or  intellectual  energy  be  brought 
entirely  within  the  restraint  of  written  law.  Genius  will 
still  have  room  enough  to  expatiate,  and  keep  always  at  the 
same  distance  from  narrow  comprehension  and  mechanical 
performance. 

What  we  now  call  Genius,  begins,  not  where  rules,  ab- 
stractedly taken,  end;  but  where  known  vulgar  and  trite 
rules  have  no  longer  any  place.  It  must  of  necessity  be, 
that  even  works  of  Genius,  like  every  other  effect,  as  they 


9^ 


TILE   SIXTII  DISCOURSE. 


must  have  their  cause,  must  likewise  have  their  rules :  it 
can  not  be  by  chance,  that  excellencies  are  produced  with 
any  constancy  or  any  certainty,  for  this  is  not  the  nature 
of  chance;  but  the  rules  by  which  men  of  extraordinary 
parts,  and  such  as  are  called  men  of  Genius,  work,  are 
either  such  as  they  discover  by  their  own  peculiar  observa- 
tions, or  of  such  a  nice  texture  as  not  easily  to  admit  being 
expressed  in  words ;  espicially  as  artists  are  not  very  fre- 
quently skillful  in  that  mode  of  communicating  ideas. 
Unsubstantial,  however,  as  these  rules  may  seem,  and  diffi- 
cult as  it  may  be  to  convey  them  in  writing,  they  are  still 
seen  and  felt  in  the  mind  of  the  artist ;  and  he  works  from 
them  with  as  much  certainty,  as  if  they  were  embodied,  as 
I  may  say,  upon  paper.  It  is  true,  these  refined  principles 
can  not  be  always  made  palpable,  like  the  more  gross  rules 
of  art ;  yet  it  does  not  follow,  but  that  the  mind  may  be 
put  in  such  a  train,  that  it  shall  perceive,  by  a  kind  of 
scientific  sense,  that  propriety,  which  words,  particularly 
words  of  unpractised  writers,  such  as  we  are,  can  but  very 
feebly  suggest. 

Invention  is  one  of  the  great  marks  of  genius :  but  if 
we  consult  experience,  we  shall  find,  that  it  is  by  being 
conversant  with  the  inventions  of  others,  that  we  learn  to 
invent ;  as  by  reading  the  thoughts  of  others  we  learn  to 
think. 

Whoever  has  so  far  formed  his  taste,  as  to  be  able  to 
relish  and  feel  the  beauties  of  the  great  masters,  has  gone 
a  great  way  in  his  study ;  for,  merely  from  a  consciousness 
of  this  relish  of  the  right,  the  mind  swells  with  an  inward 
pride,  and  is  almost  as  powerfully  affected,  as  if  it  had 
itself  produced  what  it  admires.  Our  hearts,  frequently 
warmed  in  this  manner  by  the  contact  of  those  whom  we 


THE    SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


93 


wish  to  resemble,  will  undoubtedly  catch  something  of  their 
way  of  thinking ;  and  we  shall  receive  in  our  own  bosoms 
some  radiation  at  least  of  their  fire  and  splendor.  That 
disposition,  which  is  so  strong  in  children,  still  continues 
with  us,  of  catching  involuntarily  the  general  air  and  man- 
ner of  those  with  whom  we  are  most  conversant ;  with  this 
difference  only,  that  a  young  mind  is  naturally  pliable  and 
imitative ;  but  in  a  more  advanced  state  it  grows  rigid,  and 
must  be  warmed  and  softened,  before  it  will  receive  a  deep 
impression. 

From  these  considerations,  which  a  little  of  your  own 
reflection  will  carry  a  great  way  further,  it  appears,  of  what 
great  consequence  it  is,  that  our  minds  should  be  habituated 
to  the  contemplation  of  excellence ;  and  that,  far  from  be- 
ing contented  to  make  such  habits  the  discipline  of  our 
youth  only,  we  should,  to  the  last  moment  of  our  lives, 
continue  a  settled  intercourse  with  all  the  true  examples  of 
grandeur.  Their  inventions  are  not  only  the  food  of  our 
infancy,  but  the  substance  which  supplies  the  fullest  matu- 
rity of  our  vigor. 

The  mind  is  but  a  barren  soil ;  a  soil  which  is  soon  ex- 
hausted, and  will  produce  no  crop,  or  only  one,  unless  it  be 
continually  fertilized  and  enriched  with  foreign  matter. 

When  we  have  had  continually  before  us  the  great 
works  of  Art  to  impregnate  our  minds  with  kindred  ideas, 
we  are  then,  and  not  till  then,  fit  to  produce  something  of 
the  same  species.  "We  behold  all  about  us  with  the  eyes 
of  those  penetrating  observers  whose  works  we  contem- 
plate ;  and  our  minds,  accustomed  to  think  the  thoughts  of 
the  noblest  and  brightest  intellects,  are  prepared  for  the 
discovery  and  selection  of  all  that  is  great  and  noble  in 
nature.    The  greatest  natural  genius  can  not  subsist  on  its 


94 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


own  stock  :  lie  who  resolves  never  to  ransack  any  mind  but 
his  own,  will  be  soon  reduced,  from  mere  barrenness,  to  the 
poorest  of  all  imitations ;  he  will  be  obliged  to  imitate  him- 
self, and  to  repeat  what  he  has  before  often  repeated. 
When  we  know  the  subject  designed  by  such  men,  it  will 
never  be  difficult  to  guess  what  kind  of  work  is  to  be  pro- 
duced. 

It  is  vain  for  painters  or  poets  to  endeavor  to  invent 
without  materials  on  which  the  mind  may  work,  and  from 
which  invention  must  originate.  Nothing  can  come  of 
nothing. 

Homer  is  supposed  to  be  possessed  of  all  the  learning 
of  his  time ;  and  we  are  certain  that  Michael  Angelo,  and 
Raffaelle,  were  equally  possessed  of  all  the  knowledge  in 
the  art  which  had  been  discovered  in  the  works  of  their 
predecessors. 

A  mind  enriched  by  an  assemblage  of  all  the  treasures 
of  ancient  and  modern  art,  will  be  more  elevated  and  fruit- 
ful in  resources,  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  ideas  which 
have  been  carefully  collected  and  thoroughly  digested. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  he  who  has  the  most  ma- 
terials has  the  greatest  means  of  invention ;  and  if  he  has 
not  the  power  of  using  them,  it  must  proceed  from  a  feeble- 
ness of  intellect;  or  from  the  confused  manner  in  which 
those  collections  have  been  laid  up  n  his  mind. 

The  addition  of  other  men's  judgment  is  so  far  from 
weakening  our  own,  as  is  the  opinion  of  many,  that  it  will 
fashion  and  consolidate  those  ideas  of  excellence  which  lay 
in  embryo,  feeble,  ill-shaped,  and  confused,  but  which  are 
finished  and  put  in  order  by  the  authority  and  practice  of 
those  whose  works  may  be  said  to  have  been  consecrated  by 
having  stood  the  test  of  ages. 


THE  SIXTII  DISCOURSE. 


05 


The  mind,  or  genius,  has  been  compared  to  a  spark  of 
fire,  which  is  smothered  by  a  heap  of  fuel,  and  prevented 
from  blazing  into  a  flame.  This  simile,  which  is  made  use 
of  by  the  younger  Pliny,  may  be  easily  mistaken  for  argu- 
ment or  proof.  But  there  is  no  danger  of  the  mind's  being 
over-burthened  with  knowledge,  or  the  genius  extinguished 
by  any  addition  of  images ;  on  the  contrary,  these  acquisi- 
tions may  as  well,  perhaps  better,  be  compared,  if  compari- 
sons signified  any  thing  in  reasoning,  to  the  supply  of 
living  embers,  which  will  contribute  to  strengthen  the 
spark,  that  without  the  association  of  more  fuel  would  have 
died  away.  The  truth  is,  he  whose  feebleness  is  such,  as 
to  make  other  men's  thoughts  an  incumbrance  to  him,  can 
have  no  very  great  strength  of  mind  or  genius  of  his  own 
to  be  destroyed  j  so  that  not  much  harm  will  be  done  at 
worst. 

We  may  oppose  to  Pliny  the  greater  authority  of  Cicero, 
who  is  continually  enforcing  the  necessity  of  this  method 
of  study.  In  his  dialogue  on  Oratory,  he  makes  Crassus 
say,  that  one  of  the  first  and  most  important  precepts  is, 
to  choose  a  proper  model  for  our  imitation.  Hoc  sit  ])ri- 
mum  in  praeccjitis  mcis,  ut  demonstrcmus  quern  imitnnur. 

When  I  speak  of  the  habitual  imitation  and  continued 
study  of  masters,  it  is  not  to  be  understood  that  I  advise 
any  endeavor  to  copy  the  exact  peculiar  color  and  complex- 
ion of  another  man's  mind  ;  the  success  of  such  an  attempt 
must  always  be  like  his,  who  imitates  exactly  the  air,  man- 
ner, and  gestures  of  him  whom  he  admires.  His  model 
may  be  excellent,  but  the  copy  will  be  ridiculous  :  this 
ridicule  does  not  arise  from  his  having  imitated,  but  from 
his  not  having  chosen  the  right  mode  of  imitation. 

It  is  a  necessary  and  warrantable  pride  to  disdain  to 


96 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


walk  servilely  behind  any  individual,  however  elevated  his 
rank.  The  true  and  liberal  ground  of  imitation  is  an  open 
field;  where,  though  he  who  precedes  has  had  the  advan- 
tage of  starting  before  you,  you  may  always  propose  to 
overtake  him  :  it  is  enough,  however,  to  pursue  his  course ; 
you  need  not  tread  in  his  footsteps,  and  you  certainly  have 
a  right  to  ourstrip  him  if  you  can. 

Nor  whilst  I  recommend  studying  the  art  from  artists, 
can  I  be  supposed  to  mean  that  nature  is  to  be  neglected ; 
I  take  this  study  in  aid,  and  not  in  exclusion  of  the  other. 
Nature  is  and  must  be  the  fountain  which  alone  is  inexhaust- 
ible, and  from  which  all  excellencies  must  originally  flow. 

The  great  use  of  studying  our  predecessors  is,  to  open 
the  mind,  to  shorten  our  labor,  and  to  give  us  the  result  of 
the  selection  made  by  those  great  minds  of  what  is  grand 
or  beautiful  in  nature ;  her  rich  stores  are  all  spread  out 
before  us ;  but  it  is  an  art,  and  no  easy  art,  to  know  how 
or  what  to  choose,  and  how  to  attain  and  secure  the  object 
of  our  choice.  Thus  the  highest  beauty  of  form  must  be 
taken  from  nature ;  but  it  is  an  art  of  long  deduction  and 
great  experience  to  know  how  to  find  it.  We  must  not 
content  ourselves  with  merely  admiring  and  relishing ;  we 
must  enter  into  the  principles  on  which  the  work  is 
wrought :  these  do  not  swim  on  the  superficies,  and  conse- 
quently are  not  open  to  superficial  observers. 

Art  in  its  perfection  is  not  ostentatious ;  it  lies  hid  and 
works  its  effect  itself  unseen.  It  is  the  proper  study  and 
labor  of  an  artist  to  uncover  and  find  out  the  latent  cause 
of  conspicuous  beauties,  and  from  thence  form  principles 
of  his  own  conduct ;  such  an  examination  is  a  continual 
exertion  of  the  mind;  as  great,  perhaps,  as  that  of  the 
artist  whose  works  he  is  thus  studying. 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


97. 


The  sagacious  imitator  does  not  content  himself  with 
merely  remarking  what  distinguishes  the  different  manner 
or  genius  of  each  master  j  he  enters  into  the  contrivance 
in  the  composition  how  the  masses  of  lights  are  disposed, 
the  means  by  which  the  effect  is  produced,  how  artfully 
some  parts  are  lost  in  the  ground,  others  boldly  relieved, 
and  how  all  these  are  mutually  altered  and  interchanged 
according  to  the  reason  and  scheme  of  the  work.  He  ad- 
mires not  the  harmony  of  coloring  alone,  but  examines  by 
what  artifice  one  color  is  a  foil  to  its  neighbor.  He  looks 
close  into  the  tints,  examines  of  what  colors  they  are  com- 
posed, till  he  has  formed  clear  and  distinct  ideas,  and  has 
learnt  to  see  in  what  harmony  and  good  coloring  consists. 
What  is  learnt  in  this  manner  from  the  works  of  others 
becomes  really  our  own,  sinks  deep,  and  is  never  forgotten ; 
nay,  it  is  by  seizing  on  this  clue  that  we  proceed  forward, 
and  get  further  and  further  in  enlarging  the  principles  and 
improving  the  practice  of  our  art. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  but  the  art  is  better  learnt  from 
the  works  themselves,  than  from  the  precepts  which  are 
formed  upon  those  works ;  but  if  it  is  difficult  to  choose 
proper  models  for  imitation,  it  requires  no  less  circumspec- 
tion to  separate  and  distinguish  what  in  those  models  we 
ought  to  imitate. 

I  can  not  avoid  mentioning  here,  though  it  is  not  my 
intention  at  present  to  enter  into  the  art  and  method  of 
study,  an  error  which  Students  are  too  apt  to  fall  into. 
He  that  is  forming  himself,  must  look  with  great  caution 
and  wariness  on  those  peculiarities,  or  prominent  parts, 
which  at  first  force  themselves  upon  view;  and  arc  the 
marks,  or  what  is  commonly  called  the  manner,  by  which 
that  individual  artist  is  distinguished. 

9 


98 


THE   SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


Peculiar  marks  I  hold  to  be,  generally,  if  not  always, 
defects ;  however  difficult  it  may  be  wholly  to  escape  them. 

Peculiarities  in  the  works  of  art  are  like  those  in  the 
human  figure ;  it  is  by  them  that  we  are  cognizable,  and 
distinguished  one  from  another,  but  they  are  always  so 
many  blemishes ;  which,  however,  both  in  real  life  and  in 
painting,  cease  to  appear  deformities  to  those  who  have 
them  continually  before  their  eyes.  In  the  works  of  art, 
even  the  most  enlightened  mind,  when  warmed  by  beauties 
of  the  highest  kind,  will  by  degrees  find  a  repugnance 
within  him  to  acknowledge  any  defects;  nay,  his  enthu- 
siasm will  carry  him  so  far,  as  to  transform  them  into 
beauties  and  objects  of  imitation. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  a  peculiarity  of  style, 
either  from  its  novelty  or  by  seeming  to  proceed  from  a  pe- 
culiar turn  of  mind,  often  escapes  blame ;  on  the  contrary, 
it  is  sometimes  striking  and  pleasing ;  but  this  it  is  a  vain 
labor  to  endeavor  to  imitate,  because  novelty  and  pecu- 
liarity being  its  only  merit,  when  it  ceases  to  be  new  it 
ceases  to  have  value. 

A  manner,  therefore,  being  a  defect,  and  every  painter, 
however  excellent,  having  a  manner,  it  seems  to  follow 
that  all  kinds  of  faults,  as  well  as  beauties,  may  be  learned 
under  the  sanction  of  the  greatest  authorities.  Even  the 
great  name  of  Michael  Angelo  may  be  used,  to  keep  in 
countenance  a  deficiency,  or  rather  neglect,  of  coloring,  and 
every  other  ornamental  part  of  the  art.  If  the  young 
Student  is  dry  and  hard,  Poussin  is  the  same.  If  his  work 
has  a  careless  and  unfinished  air,  he  has  most  of  the  Vene- 
tian schools  to  support  him.  If  he  makes  no  selection  of 
objects,  but  takes  individual  nature  just  as  he  finds  it,  he 
is  like  Rembrandt.    If  he  is  incorrect  in  the  proportions 


THE  SIXTn  DISCOURSE. 


99 


of  his  figures,  Correggio  was  likewise  incorrect.  If  his 
colors  are  not  blended  and  united,  Ilubens  was  equally 
crude.  In  short,  there  is  no  defect  that  may  not  he  ex- 
cused, if  it  is  a  sufficient  excuse  that  it  can  be  imputed  to 
considerable  artists;  but  it  must  be  remembered,  that  it 
was  not  by  these  defects  they  acquired  their  reputation; 
they  have  a  right  to  our  pardon,  but  not  to  our  admiration. 

However,  to  imitate  peculiarities,  or  mistake  defects  for 
beauties,  that  man  will  be  most  liable,  who  confines  his 
imitation  to  one  favorite  master;  and  even  though  he 
chooses  the  best,  and  is  capable  of  distinguishing  the  real 
excellencies  of  his  model,  it  is  not  by  such  narrow  practice 
that  a  genius  or  mastery  in  the  art  is  acquired.  A  man  is 
as  little  likely  to  form  a  true  idea  of  the  perfection  of  the 
art  by  studying  a  single  artist,  as  he  would  be  to  produce  a 
perfectly  beautiful  figure,  by  an  exact  imitation  of  any  in- 
dividual living  model.  And  as  the  painter,  by  bringing 
together  in  one  piece  those  beauties  which  are  dispersed 
among  a  great  variety  of  individuals,  produces  a  figure 
more  beautiful  than  can  be  found  in  nature,  so  that  artist 
who  can  unite  in  himself  the  excellencies  of  the  various 
great  painters,  will  approach  nearer  to  perfection  than  any 
one  of  his  masters.  He  who  confines  himself  to  the  imita- 
tion of  an  individual,  as  he  never  proposes  to  surpass,  so 
he  is  not  likely  to  equal,  the  object  of  his  imitation.  He 
professes  only  to  follow ;  and  he  that  follows  must  necessa- 
rily be  behind. 

We  should  imitate  the  conduct  of  the  great  artists  in 
the  course  of  their  studies,  as  well  as  the  works  which 
they  produced,  when  they  were  perfectly  formed.  Ilaffa- 
elle  began  by  imitating  implicitly  the  manner  of  Pietro 
Perugino,  under  whom  he  studied ;  hence  his  first  works 


100 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


are  scarce  to  be  distinguished  from  his  master's ;  but  soon 
forming  higher  and  more  extensive  views,  he  imitated  the 
grand  outline  of  Michael  Angelo ;  he  learned  the  manner 
of  using  colors  from  the  works  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  and 
Fratre  Bartolomeo :  to  all  this  he  added  the  contemplation 
of  all  the  remains  of  antiquity  that  were  within  his  reach, 
and  employed  others  to  draw  for  him  what  was  in  Greece 
and  distant  places.  And  it  is  from  his  having  taken  so 
many  models,  that  he  became  himself  a  model  for  all  suc- 
ceeding painters ;  always  imitating,  and  always  original. 

If  your  ambition,  therefore,  be  to  equal  Rafiaelle,  you 
must  do  as  Eaffaelle  did,  take  many  models,  and  not  even 
him  for  your  guide  alone,  to  the  exclusion  of  others.* 
And  yet  the  number  is  infinite  of  those  who  seem,  if  one 
may  judge  by  their  style,  to  have  seen  no  other  works  but 
those  of  their  master,  or  of  some  favorite,  whose  manner 
is  their  first  wish,  and  their  last. 

I  will  mention  a  few  that  occur  to  me  of  this  narrow, 
confined,  illiberal,  unscientific,  and  servile  kind  of  imita- 
tors. Guido  was  thus  meanly  copied  by  Elizabetta,  Sira- 
ni,  and  Simone  Cantarini;  Poussin,  by  Verdier,  and 
Cheron;  Parmegiano,  by  Jeronimo  Mazzuoli.  Paolo 
Veronese,  and  Iacomo  Bassan,  had  for  their  imitators  their 
brothers  and  sons.  Pietro  da  Cortona  was  followed  by 
Ciro  Ferri,  and  Romanelli ;  Rubens,  by  J acques  J ordaens, 
and  Diepenbeke  j  Guercino,  by  his  own  family,  the  Gen- 
nari.  Carlo  Maratti  was  imitated  by  Giuseppe  Chiari,  and 
Pietro  de  Pietri ;  and  Rembrandt,  by  Bramer,  Eeckhout, 
and  Flink.  All  these,  to  whom  may  be  added  a  much 
longer  list  of  painters,  whose  works  among  the  ignorant 

*  Sed  non  qui  maxime  imitandus,  etiam  solus  imitandus  est- 
— Quiniilian. 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


101 


pass  for  those  of  their  masters,  are  justly  to  be  censured 
for  barrenness  and  servility. 

To  oppose  to  this  list  a  few  that  have  adopted  a  more 
liberal  style  of  imitation; — Pellegrino  Tibaldi  Rosso,  and 
Primaticcio,  did  not  coldly  imitate,  but  caught  something 
of  the  fire  that  animates  the  works  of  Michael  Angelo. 
The  Caraccis  formed  their  style  from  Pellegrino  Tibaldi, 
Correggio,  and  the  Venetian  school.  Domenichino,  Guido, 
Lanfranco,  Albano,  Guercino,  Cavidone,  Schidone,  Tiarini, 
though  it  is  sufficiently  apparent  that  they  came  from  the 
school  of  the  Caraccis,  have  yet  the  appearance  of  men 
who  extended  their  views  beyond  the  model  that  lay 
before  them,  and  have  shown  that  they  had  opinions  of 
their  own,  and  thought  for  themselves,  after  they  had 
made  themselves  masters  of  the  general  principles  of  their 
schools. 

Le  Sueur's  first  manner  resembles  very  much  that  of 
his  master  Vouet;  but  as  he  soon  excelled  him,  so  he 
differed  from  him  in  every  part  of  the  art.  Carlo  Maratti 
succeeded  better  than  those  I  have  first  named,  and  I  think 
owes  his  superiority  to  the  extension  of  his  views ;  beside 
his  master  Andrea  Sacchi,  he  imitated  Raffaelle,  Guido, 
and  the  Caraccis.  It  is  true,  there  is  nothing  very  capti- 
vating in  Carlo  Maratti ;  but  this  proceeded  from  a  want 
which  can  not  be  completely  supplied ;  that  is,  want  of 
strength  of  parts.  In  this  certainly  men  are  not  equal  • 
and  a  man  can  bring  home  wares  only  in  proportion  to  the 
capital  with  which  he  goes  to  market.  Carlo,  by  diligence, 
made  the  most  of  what  he  had ;  but  there  was  undoubtedly 
a  heaviness  about  him,  which  extended  itself,  uniformly,  to 
his  invention,  expression,  his  drawing,  coloring,  and  the 
general  effect  of  his  pictures.  The  truth  is,  he  never 
9* 


102 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


equalled  any  of  his  patterns  in  any  one  thing  and  he  added 
little  of  his  own. 

But  we  must  not  rest  contented  even  in  this  general 
study  of  the  moderns ;  we  must  trace  back  the  art  to  its 
fountain-head ;  to  that  source  from  whence  they  drew  their 
principal  excellencies,  the  monuments  of  pure  antiquity. 
All  the  inventions  and  thoughts  of  the  ancients,  whether 
conveyed  to  us  in  statues,  bas-reliefs,  intaglios,  cameos,  or 
coins,  are  to  be  sought  after  and  carefully  studied ;  the  ge- 
nius that  hovers  over  these  venerable  relics  may  be  called 
the  father  of  modern  art. 

From  the  remains  of  the  works  of  the  ancients  the 
modern  arts  were  revived,  and  it  is  by  their  means  that 
they  must  be  restored  a  second  time.  However  it  may 
mortify  our  vanity,  we  must  be  forced  to  allow  them  our 
masters  :  and  we  may  venture  to  prophesy,  that  when  they 
shall  cease  to  be  studied,  arts  will  no  longer  nourish,  and 
we  shall  again  relapse  into  barbarism. 

The  fire  of  the  artist's  own  genius  operating  upon  these 
materials  which  have  been  thus  diligently  collected,  will 
enable  him  to  make  new  combinations,  perhaps,  superior  to 
what  had  ever  before  been  in  the  possession  of  the  art;  as 
in  the  mixture  of  the  variety  of  metals,  which  are  said  to 
have  been  melted  and  run  together  at  the  burning  of 
Corinth,  a  new  and  till  then  unknown  metal  was  produced, 
equal  in  value  to  any  of  those  that  had  contributed  to  its 
composition.  And  though  a  curious  refiner  should  come 
with  his  crucibles,  analyze  and  separate  its  various  compo- 
nent parts,  yet  Corinthian  brass  would  still  hold  its  rank 
amongst  the  most  beautiful  and  valuable  of  metals. 

We  have  hitherto  considered  the  advantages  of  imita- 
tion as  it  tends  to  form  the  taste,  and  as  a  practice  by 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


103 


which  a  spark  of  that  genius  may  be  caught,  which  illu- 
mines those  noble  works  that  ought  always  to  be  present  to 
our  thoughts. 

"We  come  now  to  speak  of  another  kind  of  imitation  ; 
the  borrowing  a  particular  thought,  an  action,  attitude,  or 
figure,  and  transplanting  it  into  your  own  work,  this  will 
either  come  under  the  charge  of  plagiarism,  or  be  warrant- 
able, and  deserve  commendation,  according  to  the  address 
with  which  it  is  performed.  There  is  some  difference, 
likewise,  whether  it  is  upon  the  ancients  or  moderns  that 
these  depredations  are  made.  It  is  generally  allowed,  that 
no  man  need  be  ashamed  of  copying  the  ancients ,  their 
works  are  considered  as  a  magazine  of  common  property, 
always  open  to  the  public,  whence  every  man  has  a  right  to 
take  what  materials  he  pleases ;  and  if  he  has  the  art  of 
using  them,  they  are  supposed  to  become  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  his  own  property.  The  collection  of  the  thoughts 
of  the  ancients  which  Raffaclle  made  with  so  much  trouble, 
is  a  proof  of  his  opinion  on  this  subject.  Such  collections 
may  be  made  with  much  more  ease,  by  means  of  an  art 
scarce  known  in  his  time ;  I  mean  that  of  engraving ;  by 
which,  at  an  easy  rate,  every  man  may  now  avail  himself 
of  the  inventions  of  antiquity. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  works  of  the  moderns 
are  more  the  property  of  their  authors.  He  who  borrows 
an  idea  from  an  ancient,  or  even  from  a  modern  artist 
not  his  contemporary,  and  so  accommodates  it  to  his  own 
work,  that  it  makes  a  part  of  it,  with  no  seam  or  joining 
appearing,  can  hardly  be  charged  with  plagiarism;  poets 
practise  this  kind  of  borrowing  without  reserve.  But  an 
artist  should  not  be  contented  with  this  only ;  he  should 
enter  into  a  competition  with  his  original,  and  endeavor  to 


104 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


improve  what  he  is  appropriating  to  his  own  work.  Such 
imitation  is  so  far  from  having  any  thing  in  it  of  the  ser- 
vility of  plagiarism,  that  it  is  a  perpetual  exercise  of  the 
mind,  a  continual  invention.  Borrowing  or  stealing  with 
such  art  and  caution,  will  have  a  right  to  the  same  lenity 
as  was  used  by  the  Lacedemonians ;  who  did  not  punish 
theft,  but  the  want  of  artifice  to  conceal  it. 

In  order  to  encourage  you  to  imitation,  to  the  utmost 
extent,  let  me  add,  that  very  finished  artists  in  the  inferior 
branches  of  the  art,  will  contribute  to  furnish  the  mind 
and  give  hints,  of  which  a  skillful  painter,  who  is  sensible 
of  what  he  wants,  and  is  m  no  danger  of  being  infected  by 
the  contact  of  vicious  models,  will  know  how  to  avail  him- 
self. He  will  pick  up  from  dunghills  what,  by  a  nice 
chemistry,  passing  through  his  own  mind,  shall  be  con- 
verted into  pure  gold  j  and  under  the  rudeness  of  Gothic 
essays,  he  will  find  original,  rational,  and  even  sublime  in- 
ventions. 

The  works  of  Albert  Durer,  Lucas  Van  Leyden,  the 
numerous  inventions  of  Tobias  Stimmer,  and  J ost  Amnion, 
afford  a  rich  mass  of  genuine  materials,  which,  wrought 
up,  and  polished  to  elegance,  will  add  to  what,  perhaps, 
without  such  aid,  could  have  aspired  only  to  justness  and 
propriety. 

In  the  luxuriant  style  of  Paul  Veronese,  in  the  capri- 
cious compositions  of  Tintoret,  he  will  find  something,  that 
will  assist  his  invention,  and  give  points,  from  which  his 
own  imagination  shall  rise  and  take  flight,  when  the  sub- 
ject which  he  treats  will  with  propriety  admit  of  splendid 
effects. 

In  every  school,  whether  Venetian,  French,  or  Dutch, 
he  will  find  either  ingenious  compositions,  extraordinary 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


105 


effects,  some  peculiar  expressions,  or  some  mechanical  ex- 
cellence, well  worthy  of  his  attention,  and,  in  some 
measure,  of  his  imitation.  Even  in  the  lower  class  of  the 
French  painters,  great  beauties  are  often  found,  united  with 
great  defects.  Though  Coypel  wanted  a  simplicity  of 
taste,  and  mistook' a  presumptuous  and  assuming  air,  for 
what  is  grand  and  majestic;  yet  he  frequently  has  good 
sense  and  judgment  in  his  manner  of  telling  his  stories, 
great  skill  in  his  compositions,  and  is  not  without  a  consid- 
erable power  of  expressing  the  passions.  The  modern  af- 
fectation of  grace  in  his  works,  as  well  as  in  those  of 
Bosch  and  Watteau,  may  be  said  to  be  separated  by  a  very 
thin  partition,  from  the  more  simple  and  pure  grace  of 
Correggio  and  Parmegiano. 

Among  the  Dutch  painters,  the  correct,  firm,  and  deter- 
mined pencil,  which  was  employed  by  Bamboccio  and  Jean 
Miel,  on  vulgar  and  mean  subjects,  might,  without  any 
change,  be  employed  on  the  highest;  to  which,  indeed,  it 
seems  more  properly  to  belong.  The  greatest  style,  if  that 
style  is  confined  to  small  figures,  such  as  Poussin  generally 
painted,  would  receive  an  additional  grace  by  the  elegance 
and  precision  of  pencil  so  admirable  in  the  works  of 
Teniers;  and  though  the  school  to  which  he  belonged 
more  particularly  excelled  in  the  mechanism  of  painting ; 
yet  it  produced  many,  who  have  shown  great  abilities 
in  expressing  what  must  be  ranked  above  mechanical  ex- 
cellencies. In  the  works  of  Frank  Hals,  the  portrait- 
painter  may  observe  the  composition  of  a  face,  the  features 
well  put  together,  as  the  painters  express  it ;  from  whence 
proceeds  that  strong-marked  character  of  individual  nature, 
which  is  so  remarkable  in  his  portraits,  and  is  not  found  in 
an  equal  degree  in  any  other  painter.    If  he  had  joined  to 


106 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


this  most  difficult  part  of  the  art,  a  patience  in  finishing 
what  he  had  so  correctly  planned,  he  might  justly  have 
claimed  the  place  which  Vandyke,  all  things  considered,  so 
justly  holds  as  the  first  of  portrait-painters. 

Others  of  the  same  school  have  shown  great  power  in 
expressing  the  character  and  passions  of  those  vulgar  people 
which  were  the  subjects  of  their  study  and  attention. 
Among  those,  Jan  Steen  seems  to  he  one  of  the  most  dili- 
gent and  accurate  observers  of  what  passed  in  those  scenes 
which  he  frequented,  and  which  were  to  him  an  academy. 
I  can  easily  imagine,  that  if  this  extraordinary  man  had 
had  the  good  fortune  to  have  been  born  in  Italy,  instead 
of  Holland ;  had  he  lived  in  Rome,  instead  of  Leyden ; 
and  been  blessed  with  Michael  Angelo  and  Raffaelle  for 
his  masters,  instead  of  Brouwer  and  Yan  Groyen ;  the 
same  sagacity  and  penetration  which  distinguished  so  accu- 
rately the  different  characters  and  expression  in  his  vulgar 
figures,  would,  when  exerted  in  the  selection  and  imitation 
of  what  was  great  and  elevated  in  nature,  have  been  equally 
successful ;  and  he  now  would  have  ranged  with  the  great 
pillars  and  supporters  of  our  Art. 

Men  who,  although  thus  bound  down  by  the  almost 
invincible  powers  of  early  habits,  have  still  exerted  extra- 
ordinary abilities  within  their  narrow  and  confined  circle ; 
and  have,  from  the  natural  vigor  of  their  mind,  given  a 
very  interesting  expression,  and  great  force  and  energy  to 
their  works;  though  they  can  not  be  recommended  to  be 
exactly  imitated,  may  yet  invite  an  artist  to  endeavor  to 
transfer,  by  a  kind  of  parody,  their  excellencies  to  his 
own  performances.  Whoever  has  acquired  the  power  of 
making  this  use  of  the  Flemish,  Venetian,  and  French 
schools,  is  a  real  genius,  and  has  sources  of  knowledge 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


107 


open  to  him  which  were  wanting  to  the  great  artists  who 
lived  in  the  great  age  of  painting. 

To  find  excellencies,  however  dispersed,  to  discover 
beauties,  however  concealed  by  the  multitude  of  defects 
with  which  they  are  surrounded,  can  be  the  work  only  of 
him,  who  having  a  mind  always  alive  to  his  art,  has  ex- 
tended his  views  to  all  ages  and  to  all  schools;  and  has 
acquired  from  that  comprehensive  mass  which  he  has  thus 
gathered  to  himself,  a  well-digested  and  perfect  idea  of  his 
art,  to  which  every  thing  is  referred.  Like  a  sovereign 
judge  and  arbiter  of  art,  he  is  possessed  of  that  presiding 
power  which  separates  and  attracts  every  excellence  from 
every  school ;  selects  both  from  what  is  great,  and  what  is 
little ;  brings  home  knowledge  from  the  East  and  from  the 
West;  making  the  universe  tributary  towards  furnishing 
his  mind,  and  enriching  his  works  with  originality  and 
variety  of  inventions. 

Thus  I  have  ventured  to  give  my  opinion  of  what  ap- 
pears to  me  the  true  and  only  method  by  which  an  artist 
makes  himself  master  of  his  profession ;  which  I  hold 
ought  to  be  one  continued  course  of  imitation,  that  is  not 
to  cease  but  with  his  life. 

Those,  who  either  from  their  own  engagements  and 
hurry  of  business,  or  from  indolence,  or  from  conceit  and 
vanity,  have  neglected  looking  out  of  themselves,  as  far  as 
my  experience  and  observation  reaches,  have  from  that 
time,  not  only  ceased  to  advance  and  improve  in  their  per- 
formances, but  have  gone  backward.  They  may  be  com- 
pared to  men  who  have  lived  upon  their  principal  till  they 
are  reduced  to  beggary,  and  left  without  resources. 

I  can  recommend  nothing  better,  therefore,  than  that 
you  endeavor  to  infuse  into  your  works  what  you  learn 


108 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


from  the  contemplation  of  the  works  of  others.  To  recom- 
mend this,  has  the  appearance  of  needless  and  superfluous 
advice ;  but  it  has  fallen  within  my  own  knowledge,  that 
artists,  though  they  were  not  wanting  in  a  sincere  love  for 
their  art,  though  they  had  great  pleasure  in  seeing  good 
pictures,  and  were  well  skilled  to  distinguish  what  was  ex- 
cellent or  defective  in  them,  yet  have  gone  on  in  their  own 
manner,  without  any  endeavor  to  give  a  little  of  those  beau- 
ties which  they  admired  in  others,  to  their  own  works.  It 
is  difficult  to  conceive  how  the  present  Italian  painters,  who 
live  in  the  midst  of  the  treasures  of  art,  should  be  con- 
tented with  their  own  style.  They  proceed  in  their  com- 
monplace inventions,  and  never  think  it  worth  while  to 
visit  the  works  of  those  great  artists  with  which  they  are 
surrounded. 

I  remember,  several  years  ago,  to  have  conversed  at 
Rome  with  an  artist  of  great  fame  throughout  Europe ;  he 
was  not  without  a  considerable  degree  of  abilities,  but 
those  abilities  were  by  no  means  equal  to  his  own  opinion 
of  them.  From  the  reputation  he  had  acquired,  he  too 
fondly  concluded  that  he  stood  in  the  same  rank  when  com- 
pared with  his  predecessors,  as  he  held  with  regard  to  his 
miserable  contemporary  rivals.  In  conversation  about  some 
particulars  of  the  works  of  Raffaelle,  he  seemed  to  have, 
or  to  affect  to  have,  a  very  obscure  memory  of  them.  He 
told  me  that  he  had  not  set  his  foot  in  the  Vatican  for 
fifteen  years  together ;  that  he  had  been  in  treaty  to  copy 
a  capital  picture  of  Raffaelle,  but  that  the  business  had 
gone  off :  however,  if  the  agreement  had  held,  his  copy 
would  have  greatly  exceeded  the  original.  The  merit  of 
this  artist,  however  great  we  may  suppose  it,  I  am  sure 
would  have  been  far  greater,  and  his  presumption  would 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


109 


have  been  far  less,  if  he  had  visited  the  Vatican,  as  in  rea- 
son he  ought  to  have  done,  at  least  once  every  month  of 
his  life. 

I  address  myself,  gentlemen,  to  you  who  have  made 
some  progress  in  the  art,  and  are  to  be,  for  the  future, 
under  the  guidance  of  your  own  judgment  and  discretion. 
I  consider  you  as  arrived  to  that  period  when  you  have  a 
right  to  think  for  yourselves,  and  to  presume  that  every 
man  is  fallible ;  to  study  the  masters  with  a  suspicion  that 
great  men  are  not  always  exempt  from  great  faults;  to 
criticise,  compare,  and  rank  their  works  in  your  own  esti- 
mation, as  they  approach  to,  or  recede  from,  that  standard 
of  perfection  which  you  have  formed  in  your  own  minds, 
but  which  those  masters  themselves,  it  must  be  remem- 
bered, have  taught  you  to  make,  and  which  you  will  cease 
to  make  with  correctness,  when  you  cease  to  study  them. 
It  is  their  excellencies  which  have  taught  you  their  de- 
fects. 

I  would  wish  you  to  forget  where  you  are,  and  who  it 
is  that  speaks  to  you,  I  only  direct  you  to  higher  models 
and  better  advisers.  We  can  teach  you  here  but  very  lit- 
tle ;  you  are  henceforth  to  be  your  own  teachers.  Do  this 
justice,  however,  to  the  English  Academy;  to  bear  in 
mind,  that  in  this  place  you  contracted  no  narrow  habits, 
no  false  ideas,  nothing  that  could  lead  you  to  the  imitation 
of  any  living  master,  who  may  be  the  fashionable  darling 
of  the  day.  As  you  have  not  been  taught  to  flatter  us,  do 
not  learn  to  flatter  yourselves.  We  have  endeavored  to 
lead  you  to  the  admiration  of  nothing  but  what  is  truly 
admirable.  If  you  choose  inferior  patterns,  or  if  you  make 
your  own  former  works  your  patterns  for  your  latter,  it  is 
your  own  fault. 

10 


110 


THE  SIXTH  DISCOURSE. 


The  purport  of  this  discourse,  and,  indeed,  of  most  of 
my  other  discourses,  is,  to  caution  you  against  that  false 
opinion,  but  too  prevalent  among  artists,  of  the  imaginary 
powers  of  native  genius,  and  its  sufficiency  in  great  works. 
This  opinion,  according  to  the  temper  of  mind  it  meets 
with,  almost  always  produces,  either  a  vain  confidence,  or  a 
sluggish  despair,  both  equally  fatal  to  all  proficiency. 

Study,  therefore,  the  great  works  of  the  great  masters, 
for  ever.  Study,  as  nearly  as  you  can,  in  the  order,  in  the 
manner,  and  on  the  principles,  on  which  they  studied. 
Study  nature  attentively,  but  always  with  those  masters  in 
your  company ;  consider  them  as  models  which  you  are  to 
imitate,  and  at  the  same  time  as  rivals  with  whom  you 
are  to  contend. 


DISCOURSE  VII. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  10,  177G. 

The  reality  of  a  standard  of  taste,  as  well  as  of  corj-oral  beauty. — Beside  this 
immediate  truth,  thore  are  secondary  truths,  which  are  variable ;  both  requir- 
ing the  attention  of  the  Artist,  in  proportion  to  their  stability  or  their  in- 
fluence. 

GENTLEMEN, 

It  has  been  my  uniform  endeavor,  sinoe  I  first  address- 
ed you  from  this  place,  to  impress  you  strongly  with  one 
ruling  idea.  I  wished  you  to  be  persuaded,  that  success 
in  your  art  depends  almost  entirely  on  your  own  industry ; 
but  the  industry  which  I  principally  recommended,  is  not 
the  industry  of  the  hands,  but  of  the  tnind. 

As  our  art  is  not  a  divine  gifty  so  neither  is  it  a  me- 
chanical trade.  Its  foundations  are  laid  in  solid  scionce; 
and  practico,  though  essential  to  perfection,  can  never  attain 
that  to  which  it  aims,  unless  it  works  under  the  direction 
of  principle. 

Some  writers  upon  art  carry  this  point  too  far,  and 
suppose  that  such  a  body  of  universal  and  profound  learn- 
ing is  requisite,  that  the  very  enumeration  of  its  kinds 
is  enough  to  frighten  a  beginner.  Vitruvius,  after  going 
through  the  many  accomplishments  of  nature,  and  the 
many  acquirements  of  learning,  necessary  to  an  architect, 
proceeds  with  great  gravity  to  assert  that  ho  ought  to  be 
well  skilled  in  the  civil  law,  that  he  may  not  be  cheated  in 


112 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


the  title  of  the  ground  he  "builds  on.  But  without  such 
exaggeration,  we  may  go  so  far  as  to  assert,  that  a  painter 
stands  in  need  of  more  knowledge  than  is  to  be  picked  off 
his  pallet,  or  collected  by  looking  on  his  model,  whether  it 
be  in  life  or  in  picture.  He  can  never  be  a  great  artist 
who  is  grossly  illiterate. 

Every  man  whose  business  is  description,  ought  to  be 
tolerably  conversant  with  the  poets,  in  some  language  or 
other ;  that  he  may  imbibe  a  poetical  spirit,  and  enlarge 
his  stock  of  ideas.  He  ought  to  acquire  an  habit  of  com- 
paring and  digesting  his  notions.  He  ought  not  to  be 
wholly  unacquainted  with  that  part  of  philosophy  which 
gives  an  insight  into  human  nature,  and  relates  to  the  man- 
ners, characters,  passions,  and  affections.  He  ought  to 
know  something  concerning  the  mind,  as  well  as  a  great 
deal  concerning  the  body  of  man.  For  this  purpose,  it  is 
not  necessary  that  he  should  go  into  such  a  compass  of 
reading,  as  must,  by  distracting  his  attention,  disqualify 
him  for  the  practical  part  of  his  profession,  and  make  him 
sink  the  performer  in  the  critic.  Reading,  if  it  can  be 
made  the  favorite  recreation  of  his  leisure  hours,  will 
improve  and  enlarge  his  mind,  without  retarding  his 
actual  industry.  What  such  partial  and  desultory  reading 
can  not  afford,  may  be  supplied  by  the  conversation  of 
learned  and  ingenious  men,  which  is  the  best  of  all  substi- 
tutes for  those  who  have  not  the  means  or  opportunities  of 
deep  study.  There  are  many  such  men  in  this  age ;  and 
they  will  be  pleased  with  communicating  their  ideas  to 
artists  when  they  see  them  curious  and  docile,  if  they  are 
treated  with  that  respect  and  deference  which  is  so  justly 
their  due.  Into  such  society,  young  artists,  if  they  make 
it  the  point  of  their  ambition,  will,  by  degrees,  be  admitted. 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


113 


There,  without  formal  teaching,  they  will  insensibly  come 
to  feel  and  reason  like  those  they  live  with,  and  find  a 
rational  and  systematic  taste  imperceptibly  formed  in  their 
minds,  which  they  will  know  how  to  reduce  to  a  standard, 
by  applying  general  truth  to  their  own  purposes,  better, 
perhaps,  than  those  to  whom  they  owed  the  original  sen- 
timent. 

Of  these  studies,  and  this  conversation,  the  desire  and 
legitimate  offspring,  is  a  power  of  distinguishing  right  from 
wrong ;  which  power  applied  to  works  of  art,  is  denominated 
Taste.  Let  me,  then,  without  further  introduction,  enter 
upon  an  examination,  whether  taste  be  so  far  beyond  our 
reach,  as  to  be  unattainable  by  care ;  or  be  so  very 
vague  and  capricious,  that  no  care  ought  to  be  employed 
about  it. 

It  has  been  the  fate  of  arts  to  be  enveloped  in  myste- 
rious and  incomprehensible  language,  as  if  it  was  thought 
necessary  that  even  the  terms  should  correspond  to  the  idea 
entertained  of  the  instability  and  uncertainty  of  the  rules 
which  they  expressed. 

To  speak  of  genius  and  taste,  as  in  any  way  connected 
with  reason  or  common  sense,  would  be,  in  the  opinion  of 
some  towering  talkers,  to  speak  like  a  man  who  possessed 
neither;  who  had  never  felt  that  enthusiasm,  or,  to  uso 
their  own  inflated  language,  was  never  warmed  by  that 
Promethean  fire,  which  animates  the  canvass  and  vivifies 
the  marble. 

If,  in  order  to  be  intelligible,  I  appear  to  degrade  art 
by  bringing  her  down  from  the  visionary  situation  in  the 
clouds,  it  is  only  to  give  her  a  more  solid  mansion  upon 
the  earth.  It  is  necessary  that  at  some  time  or  other  we 
should  see  things  as  they  really  are,  and  not  impose  on 
10* 


114 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


ourselves  by  that  false  magnitude  with  which  objects  appear 
when  viewed  indistinctly  as  through  a  mist. 

We  will  allow  a  poet  to  express  his  meaning,  when  his 
meaning  is  not  well  known  to  himself,  with  a  certain  de- 
gree of  obscurity,  as  it  is  one  sort  of  the  sublime.  But 
when,  in  plain  prose,  we  gravely  talk  of  courting  the  Muse 
in  shady  bowers ;  waiting  the  call  and  inspiration  of  Genius, 
finding  out  where  he  inhabits,  and  where  he  is  to  be  invoked 
with  the  greatest  success;  of  attending  to  times  and  sea- 
sons when  the  imagination  shoots  with  the  greatest  vigor, 
whether  at  the  summer  solstice  or  the  vernal  equinox; 
sagaciously  observing  how  much  the  wild  freedom  and  lib- 
erty of  imagination  is  cramped  by  attention  to  established 
rules;  and  how  this  same  imagination  begins  to  grow  dim 
in  advanced  age,  smothered  and  deadened  by  too  much 
judgment;  when  we  talk  such  language,  or  entertain  such 
sentiments  as  these,  we  generally  rest  contented  with  mere 
words,  or  at  best  entertain  notions  not  only  groundless  but 
pernicious. 

If  all  this  means,  what  it  is  very  possible  was  originally 
intended  only  to  be  meant,  that  in  order  to  cultivate  an  art 
a  man  secludes  himself  from  the  commerce  of  the  world, 
and  retires  into  the  countiy  at  particular  seasons :  or  that 
at  one  time  of  the  year  his  body  is  in  better  health,  and 
consequently  his  mind  fitter  for  the  business  of  hard  think- 
ing than  at  another  time ;  or  that  the  mind  may  be  fatigued 
and  grow  confused  by  long  and  unremitted  application ;  this 
I  can  understand.  I  can  likewise  believe,  that  a  man  emi- 
neirt  when  young  for  possessing  poetical  imagination,  may, 
from  having  taken  another  road,  so  neglect  its  cultivation, 
as  to  show  less  of  its  powers  in  his  latter  life.  But  I  am 
persuaded,  that  scarce  a  poet  is  to  be  found,  from  Homer 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


115 


down  to  Dryden,  who  preserved  a  sound  mind  in  a  sound 
body,  and  continued  practising  his  profession  to  the  very 
last,  whose  latter  works  are  not  as  replete  with  the  fire  of 
imagination,  as  those  which  were  produced  in  his  more 
youthful  days. 

To  understand  literally  these  metaphors,  or  ideas  ex- 
pressed in  poetical  language,  seems  to  be  equally  absurd  as 
to  conclude,  that  because  painters  sometimes  represent  poets 
writing  from  the  dictates  of  a  little  winged  boy  or  genius, 
that  this  same  genius  did  really  inform  him  in  a  whisper 
what  he  was  to  write )  and  that  he  is  himself  but  a  mere 
machine,  unconscious  of  the  operations  of  his  own  mind. 

Opinions  generally  received  and  floating  in  the  world, 
whether  true  or  false,  we  naturally  adopt  and  make  our 
own :  they  may  be  considered  as  a  kind  of  inheritance  to 
which  we  succeed  and  are  tenants  for  life,  and  which  we 
leave  to  our  posterity  very  nearly  in  the  condition  in  which 
we  received  it ;  it  not  being  much  in  any  one  man's  power 
either  to  impair  or  improve  it.  The  greatest  part  of  these 
opinions,  like  current  coin  in  its  circulation,  we  are  used  to 
take  without  weighing  or  examining;  but  by  this  inevitable 
inattention  many  adulterated  pieces  are  received,  which, 
when  we  seriously  estimate  our  wealth,  we  must  throw 
away.  So  the  collector  of  popular  opinions,  when  he  em- 
bodies his  knowledge,  and  forms  a  system,  must  separate 
those  which  arc  true  from  those  which  are  only  plausible. 
But  it  becomes  more  peculiarly  a  duty  to  the  professors  of 
art  not  to  let  any  opinions  relating  to  that  art  pass  unex- 
amined. The  caution  and  circumspection  required  in  such 
examination  we  shall  presently  have  an  opportunity  of  ex- 
plaining. 

Genius  and  taste,  in  their  common  acceptation,  appear 


116  THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 

to  be  very  nearly  related  \  the  difference  lies  only  in  this, 
that  genius  has  superadded  to  it  a  habit  or  power  of  execu- 
tion ;  or  we  may  say,  that  taste,  when  this  power  is  added, 
changes  its  name,  and  is  called  genius.  They  both,  in  the 
popular  opinion,  pretend  to  an  entire  exemption  from  the 
restraint  of  rules.  It  is  supposed  that  their  powers  are  in- 
tuitive; that  under  the  name  of  genius  great  works  are 
produced,  and  under  the  name  of  taste  an  exact  judgment 
is  given,  without  our  knowing  why,  and  without  our  being 
under  the  least  obligation  to  reason,  precept,  or  experience. 

One  can  scarce  state  these  opinions  without  exposing 
their  absurdity ;  yet  they  are  constantly  in  the  mouths  of 
men,  and  particularly  of  artists.  They  who  have  thought 
seriously  on  this  subject,  do  not  carry  the  point  so  far;  yet 
I  am  persuaded,  that  even  among  those  few  who  may  be 
called  thinkers,  the  prevalent  opinion  allows  less  than  it 
ought  to  the  powers  of  reason ;  and  considers  the  princi- 
ples of  taste,  which  give  all  their  authority  to  the  rules  of 
art,  as  more  fluctuating,  and  as  having  less  solid  founda- 
tions, than  we  shall  find,  upon  examination,  they  really 
have. 

The  common  saying,  that  tastes  are  not  to  be  disputed, 
owes  its  influence,  and  its  general  reception,  to  the  same 
error  which  leads  us  to  imagine  this  faculty  of  too  high  an 
original  to  submit  to  the  authority  of  an  earthly  tribunal. 
It  likewise  corresponds  with  the  notions  of  those  who  con^ 
sider  it  as  a  mere  phantom  of  the  imagination,  so  devoid 
of  substance  as  to  elude  all  criticism. 

We  often  appear  to  differ  in  sentiments  from  each 
other,  merely  from  the  inaccuracy  of  terms,  as  we  are  not 
obliged  to  speak  always  with  critical  exactness.  Some- 
thing of  this  too  may  arise  from  want  of  words  in  the  lan- 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


117 


guage  in  which  we  speak,  to  express  the  more  nice  dis- 
crimination which  a  deep  investigation  discovers.  A  great 
deal,  however,  of  this  difference  vanishes,  when  each 
opinion  is  tolerably  explained  and  understood  by  constancy 
and  precision  in  the  use  of  terms. 

We  apply  the  term  Taste  to  that  act  of  the  mind  by 
which  we  like  or  dislike,  whatever  be  the  subject.  Our 
judgment  upon  an  airy  nothing,  a  fancy  which  has  no 
foundation,  is  called  by  the  same  name  which  we  give  to 
our  determination  concerning  those  truths  which  refer  to 
the  most  general  and  most  unalterable  principles  of  human 
nature  ;  to  the  works  which  are  only  to  be  produced  by  the 
greatest  efforts  of  the  human  understanding.  However 
inconvenient  this  may  be,  we  are  obliged  to  take  words  as 
we  find  them;  all  we  can  do  is  to  distinguish  the  Tilings  to 
which  they  are  applied. 

We  may  let  pass  those  things  which  are  at  once  sub- 
jects of  taste  and  sense,  and  which  having  as  much  cer- 
tainty as  the  senses  themselves,  give  no  occasion  to  inquiry 
or  dispute.  The  natural  appetite  or  taste  of  the  human 
mind  is  for  Truth;  whether  that  truth  results  from  the 
real  agreement  or  equality  of  original  ideas  among  them- 
selves; from  the  agreement  of  the  representation  of  any 
object  with  the  thing  represented;  or  from  the  correspond- 
ence of  the  several  parts  of  any  arrangement  with  each 
other.  It  is  the  very  same  taste  which  relishes  a  demon- 
stration in  geometry,  that  is  pleased  with  the  resemblance 
of  a  picture  to  an  original  and  touched  with  the  harmony 
of  music. 

All  these  have  unalterable  and  fixed  foundations  in 
nature,  and  are  therefore  equally  investigated  by  reason, 
and  known  by  study;  some  with  more,  some  with  less 


118 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


clearness,  but  all  exactly  in  the  same  way.  A  picture  that 
is  unlike,  is  false.  Disproportionate  ordonnance  of  parts  is 
not  right ;  because  it  can  not  be  true,  until  it  ceases  to  be 
a  contradiction  to  assert  that  the  parts  have  no  relation  to 
the  wole.  Coloring  is  true,  when  it  is  naturally  adapted  to 
the  eye,  from  brightness,  from  softness,  from  harmony, 
from  resemblance;  because  these  agree  with  their  object, 
Nature,  and  therefore  are  true;  as  true  as  mathematical 
demonstration;  but  known  to  be  true  only  to  those  who 
study  these  things. 

But  besides  real,  there  is  also  apparent  truth,  or  opin- 
ion, or  prejudice.  With  regard  to  real  truth,  when  it  is 
known,  the  taste  which  conforms  to  it  is,  and  must  be, 
uniform.  With  regard  to  the  second  sort  of  truth,  which 
may  be  called  truth  upon  sufferance,  or  truth  by  courtesy, 
it  is  not  fixed,  but  variable.  However,  whilst  these  opin- 
ions and  prejudices  on  which  it  is  founded,  continue,  they 
operate  as  truth;  and  the  art,  whose  office  it  is  to  please 
the  mind,  as  well  as  instruct  it,  must  direct  itself  according 
to  opinion,  or  it  will  not  attain  its  end. 

In  proportion  as  these  prejudices  are  known  to  be  gen- 
erally diffused,  or  long  received,  the  taste  which  conforms 
to  them  approaches  nearer  to  certainty,  and  to  a  sort  of 
resemblance  to  real  science,  even  where  opinions  are  found 
to  be  no  better  than  prejudices.  And  since  they  deserve, 
on  account  of  their  duration  and  extent,  to  be  considered 
as  really  true,  they  become  capable  of  no  small  degree  of 
stability  and  determination,  by  their  permanent  and  uni- 
form nature. 

As  these  prejudices  become  more  narrow,  more  local, 
more  transitory,  this  secondary  taste  becomes  more  and 
more  fantastical;  recedes  from  real  science;  is  less  to  bo 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


119 


approved  by  reason,  and  less  followed  by  practice  :  though 
in  no  case  perhaps  to  be  wholly  neglected,  where  it  does 
not  stand,  as  it  sometimes  does,  in  direct  defiance  of  the 
most  respectable  opinions  received  amongst  mankind. 

Having  laid  down  these  positions,  I  shall  proceed  with 
less  method,  because  less  will  serve  to  explain  and  apply 
them. 

We  will  take  it  for  granted,  that  reason  is  something 
invariable,  and  fixed  in  the  nature  of  things )  and  without 
endeavoring  to  go  back  to  an  account  of  first  principles, 
which  for  ever  will  elude  our  search,  we  will  conclude,  that 
whatever  goes  under  the  name  of  taste,  which  we  can  fairly 
bring  under  the  dominion  of  reason,  must  be  considered  as 
equally  exempt  from  change.  If,  therefore,  in  the  course 
of  this  inquiry,  we  can  show  that  there  are  rules  for  the 
conduct  of  the  artist  which  are  fixed  and  invariable,  it  fol- 
lows, of  course,  that  the  art  of  the  connoisseur,  or,  in  other 
words,  taste,  has  likewise  invariable  principles. 

Of  the  judgment  which  we  make  on  the  works  of  art, 
and  the  preference  that  we  give  to  one  class  of  art  over 
another,  if  a  reason  be  demanded,  the  question  is  perhaps 
evaded  by  answering,  I  judge  from  my  taste;  but  it  does 
not  follow  that  a  better  answer  can  not  be  given,  though, 
for  common  gazers,  this  may  be  sufficient.  Every  man  is 
not  obliged  to  investigate  the  cause  of  his  approbation  or 
dislike. 

The  arts  would  lie  open  for  ever  to  caprice  and  casualty, 
if  those  who  are  to  judge  of  their  excellencies  had  no  set- 
tled principles  by  which  they  are  to  regulate  their  decisions, 
and  the  merit  or  defect  of  performances  were  to  be  deter- 
mined by  unguided  fancy.  And  indeed  we  may  venture  to 
assert,  that  whatever  speculative  knowledge  is  necessary  to 


120  THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 

the  artist,  is  equally  and  indispensably  necessary  to  the 
connoisseur. 

The  first  idea  that  occurs  in  the  consideration  of  what 
is  fixed  in  art,  or  in  taste,  is  that  presiding  principle  of 
which  I  have  so  frequently  spoken  in  former  discourses — 
the  general  idea  of  nature.  The  beginning,  the  middle, 
and  the  end  of  every  thing  that  is  valuable  in  taste,  is  com- 
prised in  the  knowledge  of  what  is  truly  nature ;  for  what- 
ever notions  are  not  conformable  to  those  of  nature,  or 
universal  opinion,  must  be  considered  as  more  or  less  capri- 
cious. 

My  notion  of  nature  comprehends  not  only  the  forms 
which  nature  produces,  but  also  the  nature  and  internal 
fabric  and  organization,  as  I  may  call  it,  of  the  human 
mind  and  imagination.  The  terms  beauty,  or  nature,  which 
are  general  ideas,  are  but  different  modes  of  expressing  the 
same  thing,  whether  we  apply  these  terms  to  statues, 
poetry,  or  pictures.  Deformity  is  not  nature,  but  an  acci- 
dental deviation  from  her  accustomed  practice.  This  gen- 
eral idea  therefore  ought  to  be  called  Nature ;  and  nothing 
else,  correctly  speaking,  has  a  right  to  that  name.  But  we 
are  sure  so  far  from  speaking,  in  common  conversation, 
with  any  such  accuracy,  that,  on  the  contrary,  when  we 
criticise  Rembrandt  and  other  Dutch  painters,  who  intro- 
duced into  their  historical  pictures  exact  representations  of 
individual  objects  with  all  their  imperfections,  we  say — 
though  it  is  not  in  a  good  taste,  yet  it  is  nature. 

This  misapplication  of  terms  must  be  very  often  per- 
plexing to  the  young  Student.  Is  not  art,  he  may  say,  an 
imitation  of  nature  ?  Must  not  he,  therefore,  who  imitates 
her  with  the  greatest  fidelity,  be  the  best  artist  ?  By  this 
mode  of  reasoning  Rembrandt  has  a  higher  place  than 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


121 


Raffaelle.  But  a  very  little  reflection  will  serve  to  show 
us  that  these  particularities  can  not  be  nature ;  for  how  can 
that  be  the  nature  of  man  in  which  no  two  individuals  arc 
the  same  ? 

It  plainly  appears,  that  as  a  work  is  conducted  under 
the  influence  of  general  ideas,  or  partial,  it  is  principally 
to  be  considered  as  the  effect  of  a  good  or  a  bad  taste. 

As  beauty,  therefore,  does  not  consist  in  taking  what 
lies  immediately  before  you,  so  neither,  in  our  pursuit  of 
taste,  are  those  opinions  which  we  first  received  and  adopt- 
ed, the  best  choice,  or  the  most  natural  to  the  mind  and 
imagination.  In  the  infancy  of  our  knowledge  we  seize 
with  greediness  the  good  that  is  within  our  reach ;  it  is  by 
after-consideration,  and  in  consequence  of  discipline,  that 
we  refuse  the  present  for  a  greater  good  at  a  distance.  The 
nobility  or  elevation  of  all  arts,  like  the  excellency  of  virtue 
itself,  consists  in  adopting  this  enlarged  and  comprehensive 
idea;  and  all  criticism  built  upon  the  more  confined  view 
of  what  is  natural,  may  properly  be  called  shallow  criti- 
cism, rather  than  false :  its  defect  is,  that  the  truth  is  not 
suflicicntly  extensive. 

It  has  sometimes  happened,  that  some  of  the  greatest 
men  in  our  art  have  been  betrayed  into  errors  by  this  con- 
fined mode  of  reasoning.  Poussin,  who  upon  the  whole, 
may  be  produced  as  an  artist  strictly  attentive  to  the  most 
enlarged  and  extensive  ideas  of  nature,  from  not  having 
settled  principles  on  this  point,  has,  in  one  instance  at  least, 
I  think,  deserted  truth  for  prejudice.  Ho  is  said  to  have 
vindicated  the  conduct  of  Julio  Romano  for  his  inattention 
to  the  masses  of  light  and  shade,  or  grouping  the  figures 
in  the  battle  OP  Constantine,  as  if  designedly  neglect- 
ed, the  better  to  correspond  with  the  hurry  and  confusion 
11 


122 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


of  a  battle.  Poussin' s  own  conduct  in  many  of  his  pic- 
tures, makes  us  more  easily  give  credit  to  this  report..  That 
it  was  too  much  his  own  practice,  the  Sacrifice  to  Sile- 
nus,  and  the  Triumph  of  Bacchus  and  Ariadne,*  may 
be  produced  as  instances ;  but  this  principle  is  still  more 
apparent,  and  may  be  said  to  be  even  more  ostentatiously 
displayed  in  his  Perseus  and  Medusa's  HEAD.f 

This  is  undoubtedly  a  subject  of  great  bustle  and 
tumult,  and  that  the  first  effect  of  the  picture  may  cor- 
respond to  the  subject,  every  principle  of  composition  is 
violated;  there  is  no  principal  figure,  no  principal  light, 
no  groups ;  every  thing  is  dispersed,  and  in  such  a  state 
of  confusion,  that  the  eye  finds  no  repose  any  where.  In 
consequence  of  the  forbidding  appearance,  I  remember 
turning  from  it  with  disgust,  and  should  not  have  looked  a 
second  time,  if  I  had  not  been  called  back  to  a  closer  in- 
spection. I  then  indeed  found,  what  we  may  expect  always 
to  find  in  the  works  of  Poussin,  correct  drawing,  forcible 
expression,  and  just  character;  in  short,  all  the  excellencies 
which  so  much  distinguish  the  works  of  this  learned 
painter. 

This  conduct  of  Poussin  I  hold  to  be  entirely  improper 
to  imitate.  A  picture  should  please  at  first  sight,  and  ap- 
pear to  invite  the  spectator's  attention :  if,  on  the  contrary, 
the  general  effect  offends  the  eye,  a  second  view  is  not 
always  sought,  whatever  more  substantial  and  intrinsic 
merit  it  may  possess. 

Perhaps  no  apology  ought  to  be  received  for  offenses 
committed  against  the  vehicle  (whether  it  be  the  organ  of 

*  In  the  Cabinet  of  the  Earl  of  Ashburnham. 
f  In  the  Cabinet  of  Sir  Peter  Burrel. 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


123 


seeing  or  of  hearing)  by  which  our  pleasures  are  conveyed 
to  the  mind.  We  must  take  care  that  the  eye  be  not  per- 
plexed and  distracted  by  a  confusion  of  equal  parts,  or 
equal  lights,  or  offended  by  an  unharmonious  mixture  of 
colors,  as  we  should  guard  against  offending  the  ear  by 
unharmonious  sounds.  We  may  venture  to  be  more  con- 
fident of  the  truth  of  this  observation,  since  we  find  that 
Shakspeare,  on  a  parallel  occasion,  has  made  Hamlet  recom- 
mend to  the  players  a  precept  of  the  same  kind — never  to 
offend  the  ear  by  harsh  sounds  :  In  the  very  torrent,  tem- 
pest, and  whirlwind  of  your  passions,  says  he,  you  must 
acquire  and  beget  a  temperance  that  may  give  it  smooth- 
ness. And  yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  very  justly  observes, 
The  end  of  playing,  both  at  the  first,  and  now,  was  and  is} 
to  hold,  as  'twere,  the  mirror  up  to  nature.  No  one  can 
deny,  that  violent  passions  will  naturally  emit  harsh  and 
disagreeable  tones :  yet  this  great  poet  and  critic  thought 
that  this  imitation  of  nature  would  cost  too  much,  if  pur- 
chased at  the  expense  of  disagreeable  sensations,  or,  as  he 
expresses  it,  of  splitting  the  ear.  The  poet  and  actor,  as 
well  as  the  painter  of  genius,  who  is  well  acquainted  with 
all  the  variety  and  sources  of  pleasure  in  the  mind  and 
imagination,  has  little  regard  or  attention  to  common  na- 
ture, or  creeping  after  common  sense.  By  overleaping 
those  narrow  bounds,  he  more  effectually  seizes  the  whole 
mind,  and  more  powerfully  accomplishes  his  purpose.  This 
success  is  ignorantly  imagined  to  proceed  from  inattcntion 
to  all  rules,  and  a  defiance  of  reason  and  judgment;  whereas 
it  is  in  truth  acting  according  to  the  best  rules  and  the 
justest  reason.  * 

He  who  thinks  nature,  in  the  narrow  sense  of  the  word, 
is  alone  to  be  followed,  will  produce  but  a  scanty  enter- 


124 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


tainment  for  the  imagination ;  every  thing  is  to  be  done 
■with  which  it  is  natural  for  the  mind  to  be  pleased,  whether 
it  proceeds  from  simplicity  or  variety,  uniformity  or  irreg- 
ularity; whether  the  scenes  are  familiar  or  exotic;  rude 
and  wild,  or  enriched  and  cultivated ;  for  it  is  natural  for 
the  mind  to  be  pleased  with  all  these  in  their  turn.  In 
short  whatever  pleases  has  in  it  what  is  analogous  to  the 
mind,  and  is,  therefore,  in  the  highest  and  best  sense  of  the 
word,  natural. 

It  is  the  sense  of  nature  or  truth,  which  ought  more 
particularly  to  be  cultivated  by  the  professors  of  art;  and 
it  may  be  observed,  that  many  wise  and  learned  men,  who 
have  accustomed  their  minds  to  admit  nothing  for  truth 
but  what  can  be  proved  by  mathematical  demonstration, 
have  seldom  any  relish  for  those  arts  which  address  them- 
selves to  the  fancy,  the  rectitude  and  truth  of  which  is 
known  by  another  kind  of  proof;  and  we  may  add,  that 
the  acquisition  of  this  knowledge  requires  as  much  circum- 
spection and  sagacity  as  is  necessary  to  attain  those  truths 
which  are  more  capable  of  demonstration.  Reason  must 
ultimately  determine  our  choice  on  every  occasion ;  but 
this  reason  may  still  be  exerted  ineffectually  by  applying 
to  taste  principles  which,  though  right  as  far  as  they  go, 
yet  do  not  reach  the  object.  No  man,  for  instance,  can 
deny,  that  it  seems  at  first  view  very  reasonable,  that  a 
statue  which  is  to  carry  down  to  posterity  the  resemblance 
of  an  individual,  should  be  dressed  in  the  fashion  of  the 
times,  in  the  dress  which  he  himself  wore;  this  would 
certainly  be  true,  if  the  dress  were  part  of  the  man ;  but 
after  a  time,  the  dress  is  only  an  amusement  for  an  antiqua- 
rian ;  and  if  it  obstructs  the  general  design  of  the  piece, 
it  is  to  be  disregarded  by  the  artist.    Common  sense  must 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


125 


here  give  way  to  a  higher  sense.  In  the  naked  form,  and 
in  the  disposition  of  the  drapery,  the  difference  between 
one  artist  and  another  is  principally  seen.  But  if  he  is 
compelled  to  exhibit  the  modern  dress,  the  naked  form  is 
entirely  hid,  and  the  drapery  is  already  disposed  by  the 
skill  of  the  tailor.  Were  a  Phidias  to  obey  such  absurd 
commands,  he  would  please  no  more  than  an  ordinary 
sculptor ;  in  the  inferior  parts  of  every  art,  the  learned  and 
the  ignorant  are  nearly  upon  a  level. 

These  were  probably  among  the  reasons  that  induced 
the  sculptor  of  that  wonderful  figure  of  Laocoon,  to  exhibit 
him  naked,  notwithstanding  he  was  surprised  in  the  act  of 
sacrificing  to  Apollo,  and  consequently  ought  to  have  been 
shown  in  his  sacerdotal  habits,  if  those  greater  reasons  had 
not  preponderated.  Art  is  not  yet  in  so  high  estimation 
with  us,  as  to  obtain  so  great  a  sacrifice  as  the  ancients 
made,  especially  the  Grecians,  who  suffered  themselves  to 
be  represented  naked,  whether  they  were  generals,  law- 
givers or  kings. 

Under  this  head  of  balancing  and  choosing  the  greater 
reason,  or  of  two  evils  taking  the  least,  we  may  consider 
the  conduct  of  Rubens  in  the  Luxembourg  gallery,  where 
he  has  mixed  allegorical  figures  with  the  representations  of 
real  personages,  which  must  be  acknowledged  to  be  a  fault  • 
yet,  if  the  artist  considered  himself  as  engaged  to  furnish 
this  gallery  with  a  rich,  various,  and  splendid  ornament, 
this  could  not  be  done,  at  least  in  an  equal  degree,  without 
peopling  the  air  and  water  with  these  allegorical  figures ; 
he  therefore  accomplished  all  that  he  purposed.  In  this 
case  all  lesser  considerations,  which  tend  to  obstruct  the 
great  end  of  the  work,  must  yield  and  give  way. 

The  variety  which  portraits  and  modern  dresses,  mixed 
11* 


126 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


with  allegorical  figures,  produce,  is  not  to  be. slightly  given 
up  upon  a  punctilio  of  reason,  when  that  reason  deprives 
the  art  in  a  manner  of  its  very  existence.  It  must  always 
be  remembered  that  the  business  of  a  great  painter  is  to 
produce  a  great  picture;  he  must  therefore  take  especial 
care  not  to  be  cajoled  by  specious  arguments  out  of  his 
materials. 

"What  has  been  so  often  said  to  the  disadvantage  of  alle- 
gorical poetry — that  it  is  tedious  and  uninteresting — can 
not  with  the  same  propriety  be  applied  to  painting,  where 
the  interest  is  of  a  different  kind.  If  allegorical  painting 
produces  a  greater  variety  of  ideal  beauty,  a  richer,  a  more 
various  and  delightful  composition,  and  gives  to  the  artist  a 
greater  opportunity  of  exhibiting  his  skill,  all  the  interest 
he  wishes  for  is  accomplished;  such  a  picture  not  only 
attracts,  but  fixes  the  attention. 

If  it  be  objected  that  Rubens  judged  ill  at  first  in  think- 
ing it  necessary  to  make  his  work  so  very  ornamental,  this 
puts  the  question  upon  new  ground.  It  was  his  peculiar 
style ;  he  could  paint  in  no  other ;  and  he  was  selected  for 
that  work  probably  because  it  was  his  style.  Nobody  will 
dispute  but  some  of  the  best  of  the  Roman  or  Bolognian 
schools  would  have  produced  a  more  learned  and  more 
noble  work. 

This  leads  us  to  another  important  province  of  taste, 
that  of  weighing  the  value  of  the  different  classes  of  the 
art,  and  of  estimating  them  accordingly. 

All  arts  have  means  within  them  of  applying  them- 
selves with  success  both  to  the  intellectual  and  sensitive 
part  of  our  natures.  It  can  not  be  disputed,  supposing 
both  these  means  put  in  practice  with  equal  abilities,  to 
which  we  ought  to  give  the  preference ;  to  him  who  repre- 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


127 


Bents  the  heroic  arts  and  more  dignified  passions  of  man, 
or  to  him  who,  by  the  help  of  meretricious  ornaments, 
however  elegant  and  graceful,  captivates  the  sensuality,  as 
it  may  bo  called,  of  our  taste.  Thus  the  Roman  and  Bo- 
lognian  schools  are  reasonably  preferred  to  the  Venetian, 
Flemish,  or  Dutch  schools,  as  they  address  themselves  to 
our  best  and  noblest  faculties. 

Well  turned  periods  in  eloquence,  or  harmony  of  num- 
bers in  poetry,  which  are  in  those  arts  what  coloring  is  in 
painting  however  highly  we  may  esteem  them,  can  never 
be  considered  as  of  equal  importance  with  the  art  of  unfold- 
ing truths  that  are  useful  to  mankind,  and  which  make  us 
better  or  wiser.  Nor  can  those  works  which  remind  us  of 
the  poverty  and  meanness  of  our  nature,  be  considered  as 
of  equal  rank  with  what  excites  ideas  of  grandeur,  or  raises 
and  dignifies  humanity;  or,  in  the  words  of  a  late  poet, 
which  makes  the  beholder  learn  to  venerate  himself  as 
man* 

It  is  reason  and  good  sense,  therefore,  which  ranks  and 
estimates  every  art,  and  every  part  of  that  art,  according  to 
its  importance,  from  the  painter  of  animated,  down  to  inan- 
imated  nature.  We  will  not  allow  a  man,  who  shall  prefer 
the  inferior  style,  to  say  it  is  his  taste;  taste  here  has 
nothing,  or  at  least  ought  to  have  nothing,  to  do  with  the 
question.  He  wants  not  taste,  but  sense  and  soundness  of 
judgment. 

Indeed  perfection  in  an  inferior  style  may  be  reasonably 
preferred  to  mediocrity  in  the  highest  walks  of  art.  A 
landscape  of  Claude  Lorraine  may  be  preferred  to  a  history 
by  Luca  Giordano ;  but  hence  appears  the  necessity  of  the 
connoisseur's  knowing  in  what  consists  the  excellency  of 

*  Dr.  Goldsmith. 


128 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


each  class,  in  order  to  judge  how  near  it  approaches  to  per- 
fection. 

Even  in  works  of  the  same  kind,  as  in  history-painting, 
which  is  composed  of  various  parts,  excellence  of  an  infe- 
rior species,  carried  to  a  very  high  degree,  will  make  a 
work  very  valuable,  and  in  some  measure  compensate  for 
the  absence  of  the  higher  kinds  of  merit.  It  is  the  duty 
of  the  connoisseur  to  know  and  esteem,  as  much  as  it  may 
deserve,  every  part  of  painting :  he  will  not  then  think 
even  Bassano  unworthy  of  his  notice;  who,  though  totally 
devoid  of  expression,  sense,  grace,  or  elegance,  may  be 
esteemed  on  account  of  his  admirable  taste  of  colors,  which, 
in  his  best  works,  are  little  inferior  to  those  of  Titian. 

Since  I  have  mentioned  Bassano,  we  must  do  him  like- 
wise the  justice  to  acknowledge,  that  though  he  did  not 
aspire  to  the  dignity  of  expressing  the  characters  and  pas- 
sions of  men,  yet  with  respect  to  facility  and  truth  in  his 
manner  of  touching  animals  of  all  kinds,  and  giving  them 
what  painters  call  their  character,  few  have  excelled  him. 

To  Bassano  we  may  add  Paul  Veronese  and  Tintoret 
for  their  entire  inattention  to  what  is  justly  thought  the 
most  essential  part  of  our  art,  the  expression  of  the  pas- 
sions. Notwithstanding  these  glaring  deficiencies,  we  justly 
esteem  their  works ;  but  it  must  be  remembered,  that  they 
do  not  please  from  those  defects,  but  from  their  great  excel- 
lencies of  another  kind,  and  in  spite  of  such  transgressions. 
These  excellencies,  too,  as  far  as  they  go,  are  founded  in 
the  truth  of  general  nature :  they  tell  the  truth,  though 
not  the  whole  truth. 

By  these  considerations,  which  can  never  be  too  fre 
quently  impressed,  may  be  obviated  two  errors,  which  I 
observed  to  have  been,  formerly  at  least,  the  most  preva- 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


129 


lent,  and  to  be  most  injurious  to  artists;  that  of  thinking 
taste  and  genius  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  reason,  and 
that  of  taking  particular  living  objects  for  nature. 

I  shall  now  say  something  on  that  part  of  taste,  which 
as  I  have  hinted  to  you  before,  does  not  belong  so  much  to 
the  external  form  of  things,  but  is  addressed  to  the  mind, 
and  depends  on  its  original  frame,  or,  to  use  the  expression, 
the  organisation  of  the  soul ;  I  mean  the  imagination  and 
the  passions.  The  principles  of  these  are  as  invariable  as 
the  former,  and  are  to  be  known  and  reasoned  upon  in  the 
same  manner,  by  an  appeal  to  common  sense  deciding  upon 
the  common  feelings  of  mankind.  This  sense,  and  these 
feelings  appear  to  me  of  equal  authority,  and  equally  con- 
clusive. Now  this  appeal  implies  a  general  uniformity  and 
agreement  in  the  minds  of  men.  It  would  be  else  an  idle 
and  vain  endeavor  to  establish  rules  of  art;  it  would  be 
pursuing  a  phantom,  to  attempt  to  move  affections  with 
which  we  were  entirely  unacquainted.  We  have  no  reason 
to  suspect  there  is  a  greater  difference  between  our  minds 
than  between  our  forms;  of  which,  though  there  are  no 
two  alike,  yet  there  is  a  general  similitude  that  goes  through 
the  whole  race  of  mankind ;  and  those  who  have  cultivated 
their  taste,  can  distinguish  what  is  beautiful  or  deformed, 
or,  in  other  words,  what  agrees  with  or  deviates  from  the 
general  idea  of  nature,  in  one  case,  as  well  as  in  the  other. 

The  internal  fabric  of  our  minds,  as  well  as  the  exter- 
nal form  of  our  bodies,  being  nearly  uniform;  it  seems 
then  to  follow  of  course,  that  as  the  imagination  is  incapa- 
ble of  producing  any  thing  originally  of  itself,  and  can 
only  vary  and  combine  those  ideas  with  which  it  is  fur- 
nished by  means  of  the  senses,  there  will  be  necessarily  an 
agreement  in  the  imaginations,  as  in  the  senses  of  men. 


130 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


There  being  this  agreement,  it  follows,  that  in  all  cases,  in 
our  lightest  amusements,  as  well  as  in  our  most  serious 
actions  and  engagements  of  life,  we  must  regulate  our 
affections  of  every  kind  by  that  of  others.  The  well  dis- 
ciplined mind  acknowledges  this  authority,  and  submits  its 
own  opinion  to  the  public  voice.  It  is  from  knowing  what 
are  the  general  feelings  and  passions  of  mankind,  that  we 
acquire  a  true  idea  of  what  imagination  is ;  though  it  ap- 
pears as  if  we  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  consult  our  own 
particular  sensations,  and  these  were  sufficient  to  ensure  us 
from  all  error  and  mistake. 

A  knowledge  of  the  disposition  and  character  of  the 
human  mind  can  be  acquired  only  by  experience ;  a  great 
deal  will  be  learned,  I  admit,  by  a  habit  of  examining 
what  passes  in  our  bosoms,  what  are  our  own  motives  of 
action,  and  of  what  kind  of  sentiments  we  are  conscious  on 
any  occasion.  We  may  suppose  an  uniformity,  and  con- 
clude that  the  same  effect  will  be  produced  by  the  same 
cause  in  the  mind  of  others.  This  examination  will  con- 
tribute to  suggest  to  us  matters  of  inquiry ;  but  we  can 
never  be  sure  that  our  own  sentiments  are  true  and  right, 
till  they  are  confirmed  by  more  extensive  observation.  One 
man  opposing  another  determines  nothing;  but  a  general 
union  of  minds,  like  a  general  combination  of  the  forces  of 
all  mankind,  makes  a  strength  that  is  irresistible.  In  fact, 
as  he  who  does  not  know  himself,  does  not  know  others,  so 
it  may  be  said  with  equal  truth,  that  he  who  does  not  know 
others,  knows  himself  but  very  imperfectly. 

A  man  who  thinks  he  is  guarding  himself  against  pre- 
judices by  resisting  the  authority  of  others,  leaves  open 
every  avenue  to  singularity,  vanity,  self-conceit,  obstinacy, 
and  many  other  vices,  all  tending  to  warp  the  judgment, 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


131 


and  prevent  the  natural  operation  of  his  faculties.  This 
submission  to  others  is  a  deference  which  we  owe,  and  in- 
deed are  forced  involuntarily  to  pay.  In  fact,  we  never 
are  satisfied  with  our  opinions,  whatever  we  may  pretend, 
till  they  are  ratified  and  confirmed  by  the  suffrages  of  the 
rest  of  mankind.  We  dispute  and  wrangle  for  ever ;  we 
endeavor  to  get  men  to  come  to  us,  when  we  do  not  go  to 
them. 

He  therefore  who  is  acquainted  with  the  works  which 
have  pleased  different  ages  and  different  countries,  and  has 
formed  his  opinion  on  them,  has  more  materials  and  more 
means  of  knowing  what  is  analogous  to  the  mind  of  man, 
than  he  who  is  conversant  only  with  the  works  of  his  own 
age  or  country.  What  has  pleased,  and  continues  to 
please,  is  likely  to  please  again :  hence  are  derived  the 
rules  of  art,  and  on  this  immoveable  foundation  they  must 
ever  stand. 

This  search  and  study  of  the  history  of  the  mind  ought 
not  to  be  confined  to  one  art  only.  It  is  by  the  analogy 
that  one  art  bears  to  another,  that  many  things  are  ascer- 
tained, which  either  were  but  faintly  seen,  or,  perhaps, 
would  not  have  been  discovered  at  all,  if  the  inventor  had 
not  received  the  first  hints  from  the  practices  of  a  sister  art 
on  a  similar  occasion.*  The  frequent  allusions  which 
every  man  who  treats  of  any  art  is  obliged  to  make  to 
others,  in  order  to  illustrate  and  confirm  his  principles,  suf- 
ficiently show  their  near  connection  and  inseparable  rela- 
tion. 

All  arts  having  the  same  general  end,  which  is  to 
please;  and  addressing  themselves  to  the  same  faculties 

*  Nulla  ars,  non  alterius  artis,  aut  mater,  aut  popinqua  est. — 
Tertull.  as  cited  by  Junius. 


132 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


through  the  medium  of  the  senses ;  it  follows  that  their 
rules  and  principles  must  have  as  great  affinity  as  the  dif- 
ferent materials  and  the  different  organs  or  vehicles  by 
which  they  pass  to  the  mind,  will  permit  them  to  retain.* 

We  may  therefore  conclude,  that  the  real  substance,  as 
it  may  be  called,  of  what  goes  under  the  name  of  taste,  is 
fixed  and  established  in  the  nature  of  things ;  that  there 
are  certain  and  regular  causes  by  which  the  imagination 
and  passions  of  men  are  affected ;  and  that  the  knowledge 
of  these  causes  is  acquired  by  a  laborious  and  diligent  in- 
vestigation of  nature,  and  by  the  same  slow  progress  as 
wisdom  or  knowledge  of  every  kind,  however  instantaneous 
its  operations  may  appear  when  thus  acquired. 

It  has  been  often  observed,  that  the  good  and  virtuous 
man  alone  can  acquire  this  true  or  just  relish  even  of 
works  of  art.  This  opinion  will  not  appear  entirely  with- 
out foundation,  when  we  consider  that  the  same  habit  of 
mind,  which  is  acquired  by  our  search  after  truth,  in  the 
more  serious  duties  of  life,  is  only  transferred  to  the  pur- 
suit of  lighter  amusements.  The  same  disposition,  the 
same  desire  to  find  something  steady,  substantial,  and  du- 
rable, on  which  the  mind  can  lean,  as  it  were,  and  rest 
with  safety,  actuates  us  in  both  cases.  The  subject  only  is 
changed.  We  pursue  the  same  method  in  our  search  after 
the  idea  of  beauty  and  perfection  in  each ;  of  virtue,  by 
looking  forwards  beyond  ourselves  to  society,  and  to  the 
whole ;  of  arts,  by  extending  our  views  in  the  same  man- 
ner, to  all  ages  and  all  times. 

Every  art,  like  our  own,  has  in  its  composition,  fluc- 

*  Omnes  artes  quae  ad  humanitatem  pertinent,  habent  quod- 
dam  commune  vinculum,  et  quasi  cognatione  inter  se  continentur. 
— Cicero. 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


133 


tuating  as  well  as  fixed  principles.  It  is  an  attentive  in- 
quiry into  their  difference,  that  will  enable  us  to  determine 
how  far  we  are  influenced  by  custom  and  habit,  and  what 
is  fixed  in  the  nature  of  things. 

To  distinguish  how  much  has  solid  foundation,  we  may 
have  recourse  to  the  same  proof  by  which  some  hold  that 
wit  ought  to  be  tried ;  whether  it  preserves  itself  when 
translated.  That  wit  is  false,  which  can  subsist  only  in 
one  language ;  and  that  picture  which  pleases  only  one  age 
or  one  nation,  owes  its  reception  to  some  local  or  accidental 
association  of  ideas. 

We  may  apply  this  to  every  custom  and  habit  of  life. 
Thus,  the  general  principles  of  urbanity,  politeness,  or 
civility,  have  been  the  same  in  all  nations ;  but  the  mode 
in  which  they  are  dressed  is  continually  varying.  The 
general  idea  of  showing  respect,  is  by  making  yourself 
less ',  but  the  manner,  whether  by  bowing  the  body,  kneel- 
ing, prostration,  pulling  off  the  upper  part  of  our  dress, 
or  taking  away  the  lower,*  is  a  matter  of  custom. 

Thus,  in  regard  to  ornaments, — it  would  be  unjust  to 
conclude,  that,  because  they  were  at  first  arbitrarily  con- 
trived, they  are  therefore  undeserving  of  our  attention ;  on 
the  contrary,  he  who  neglects  the  cultivation  of  those  orna- 
ments, acts  contrary  to  nature  and  reason.  As  life  would 
be  imperfect  without  its  highest  ornaments,  the  Arts,  so 
these  arts  themselves  would  be  imperfect  without  tJieir  or- 
naments. Though  we,  by  no  means,  ought  to  rank  with 
these  positive  and  substantial  beauties,  yet  it  must  be  al- 
lowed that  a  knowledge  of  both  is  essentially  requisite 
towards  forming  a  complete,  whole,  and  perfect  taste.  It 

*  Put  off"  thy  shoes  from '  off  thy  feet,  for  the  place  whereon 
thou  standest  is  holy  ground. — Exodus,  iii-  5. 

12 


134 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


is  in  reality  from  their  ornaments,  that  arts  receive  their 
peculiar  character  and  complexion ;  we  may  add,  that  in 
them  we  find  the  characteristical  mark  of  a  national  taste ; 
as,  by  throwing  up  a  feather  in  the  air,  we  know  which  way 
the  wind  blows,  better  than  by  a  more  heavy  matter. 

The  striking  distinction  between  the  works  of  the  Ro- 
man, Bolognian,  and  Venetian  schools,  consists  more  in 
that  general  effect  which  is  produced  by  colors,  than  in  the 
more  profound  excellencies  of  the  art ;  at  least  it  is  from 
thence  that  each  is  distinguished  and  known  at  first  sight. 
Thus  it  is  the  ornaments,  rather  than  the  proportions  of 
architecture,  which  at  the  first  glance  distinguish  the  differ- 
ent orders  from  each  other ;  the  Doric  is  known  by  its  tri- 
glyphs,  the  Ionic  by  its  volutes,  and  the  Corinthian  by  its 
acanthus. 

What  distinguishes  oratory  from  a  cold  narration  is  a 
more  liberal,  though  chaste,  use  of  those  ornaments  which 
go  under  the  name  of  figurative  and  metaphorical  expres- 
sions; and  poetry  distinguishes  itself  from  oratory,  by 
words  and  expressions  still  more  ardent  and  glowing. 
What  separates  and  distinguishes  poetry,  is  more  particu- 
larly the  ornament  of .  verse ;  it  is  this  which  gives  it  its 
character,  and  is  an  essential  without  which  it  cannot  exist. 
Custom  has  appropriated  different  metre  to  different  kinds 
of  composition,  in  which  the  world  is  not  perfectly  agreed. 
In  England  the  dispute  is  not  yet  settled,  which  is  to  be 
preferred,  rhyme  or  blank  verse.  But  however  we  disagree 
about  what  these  metrical  ornaments  shall  be,  that  some 
metre  is  essentially  necessary,  is  universally  acknowledged. 

In  poetry  or  eloquence,  to  determine  how  far  figurative 
or  metaphorical  language  may  proceed,  and  when  it  begins 
to  be  affectation  or  beside  the  truth,  must  be  determined 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


135 


by  taste ;  though  this  taste,  we  must  never  forget,  is  regu- 
lated and  formed  by  the  presiding  feelings,  of  mankind, — 
by  those  works  which  have  approved  themselves  to  all 
times  and  all  persons.  Thus,  though  eloquence  has  un- 
doubtedly an  essential  and  intrinsic  excellence,  and  im- 
moveable principles  common  to  all  languages,  founded  in 
the  nature  of  our  passions  and  affections ;  yet  it  has  its  or- 
naments and  modes  of  address,  which  are  merely  arbitrary. 
What  is  approved  in  the  eastern  nations  as  grand  and  ma- 
jestic, would  be  considered  by  the  Greeks  and  Romans  as 
turgid  and  inflated ;  and  they,  in  return,  would  be  thought 
by  the  Orientals  to  express  themselves  in  a  cold  and  insipid 
manner. 

We  may  add,  likewise,  to  the  credit  of  ornaments,  that 
it  is  by  their  means  that  Art  itself  accomplishes  its  pur- 
pose. Fresnoy  calls  coloring,  which  is  one  of  the  chief 
ornaments  of  painting,  lena  sororts,  that  which  procures 
lovers  and  admirers  to  the  more  valuable  excellencies  of 
the  art. 

It  appears  to  be  the  same  right  turn  of  mind  which 
enables  a  man  to  acquire  the  truth,  or  the  just  idea  of 
what  is  right,  in  the  ornaments,  as  in  the  more  stable  prin- 
ciples of  art.  It  has  still  the  same  centre  of  perfection, 
though  it  is  the  centre  of  a  smaller  circle. 

To  illustrate  this  by  the  fashion  of  dress,  in  which  there 
is  allowed  to  be  a  good  or  bad  taste.  The  component  parts 
of  dress  are  continually  changing  from  great  to  little,  from 
short  to  long;  but  the  general  form  still  remains;  it  is  still 
the  same  general  dress,  which  is  comparatively  fixed,  though 
on  a  very  slender  foundation ;  but  it  is  on  this  which 
fashion  must  rest.  He  who  invents  with  the  most  success, 
or  dresses  in  the  best  taste,  would  probably,  from  the  same 


136 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


sagacity  employed  to  greater  purposes,  have  discovered 
equal  skill,  or  have  formed  the  same  correct  taste,  in  the 
highest  labors  of  art. 

I  have  mentioned  taste  in  dress,  which  is  certainly  one 
of  the  lowest  subjects  to  which  this  word  is  applied ;  yet, 
as  I  have  before  observed,  there  is  a  right  even  here,  how- 
ever narrow  its  foundation,  respecting  the  fashion  of  any 
particular  nation.  But  we  have  still  more  slender  means 
of  determining,  to  which  of  the  different  customs  of  differ- 
ent ages  or  countries  we  ought  to  give  the  preference,  since 
they  seem  to  be  all  equally  removed  from  nature.  If  an 
European,  when  he  has  cut  off  his  beard,  and  put  false 
hair  on  his  head,  or  bound  up  his  own  natural  hair  in  regu- 
lar hard  knots,  as  unlike  nature  as  he  can  possibly  make 
it ;  and  after  having  rendered  them  immoveable  by  the 
help  of  the  fat  of  hogs,  has  covered  the  whole  with  flour, 
laid  on  by  a  machine  with  the  utmost  regularity ;  if,  when 
thus  attired,  he  issues  forth,  and  meets  a  Cherokee  Indian, 
who  has  bestowed  as  much  time  at  his  toilet,  and  laid  on 
with  equal  care  and  attention  his  yellow  and  red  ochre  on 
parts  of  his  forehead  or  cheeks,  as  he  judges  most  becom- 
ing )  whoever  of  these  two  despises  the  other  for  this  at- 
tention to  the  fashion  of  his  country,  which  ever  first  feels 
himself  provoked  to  laugh,  is  the  barbarian. 

All  these  fashions  are  very  innocent ;  neither  worth 
disquisition,  nor  any  endeavor  to  alter  them ;  as  the  change 
would,  in  all  probability,  be  equally  distant  from  nature. 
The  only  circumstance  against  which  indignation  may  rea- 
sonably be  moved,  is,  where  the  operation  is  painful  or  de- 
structive of  health ;  such  as  some  of  the  practices  at  Ota- 
heite,  and  the  straight  lacing  of  the  English  ladies ;  of  the 
last  of  which  practices,  how  destructive  it  must  be  to 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


137 


health  and  long  life,  the  professor  of  anatomy  took  an  op- 
portunity of  proving  a  few  days  since  in  this  Academy. 

It  is  in  dress  as  in  things  of  greater  consequence. 
Fashions  originate  from  those  only  who  have  the  high  and 
powerful  advantages  of  rank,  birth,  and  fortune.  Many 
of  the  "ornaments  of  art,  those  at  least  for  which  no  reason 
can  be  given,  are  transmitted  to  us,  are  adopted,  and  ac- 
quire their  consequence  from  the  company  in  which  we 
have  been  used  to  see  them.  As  Greece  and  Rome  are  the 
fountains  from  whence  have  flowed  all  kinds  of  excellence, 
to  that  veneration  which  they  have  a  right  to  claim  for  the 
pleasure  and  knowledge  which  they  have  afforded  us,  we 
voluntarily  add  our  approbation  of  every  ornament  and 
every  custom  that  belonged  to  them,  even  to  the  fashion  of 
their  dress.  For  it  may  be  observed  that,  not  satisfied  with 
them  in  their  own  place,  we  make  no  difficulty  of  dressing 
statues  of  modern  heroes  or  senators  in  the  fashion  of  the 
Roman  armor  or  peaceful  robe ;  we  go  so  far  as  hardly  to 
bear  a  statue  in  any  other  drapery. 

The  figures  of  the  great  men  of  those  nations  have 
come  down  to  us  in  sculpture.  In  sculpture  remain  almost 
all  the  excellent  specimens  of  ancient  art.  We  have  so 
far  associated  personal  dignity  to  the  persons  thus  repre- 
sented, and  the  truth  of  art  to  their  manner  of  representa- 
tion, that  it  is  not  in  our  power  any  longer  to  separate 
them.  This  is  not  so  in  painting ;  because  having  no  ex- 
cellent ancient  portraits,  that  connection  was  never  formed. 
Indeed  we  could  no  more  venture  to  paint  a  general  officer 
in  a  Roman  military  habit,  than  we  could  make  a  statue  in 
the  present  uniform.  But  since  we  have  no  ancient  por- 
traits, to  show  how  ready  we  are  to  adopt  those  kind  of 
prejudices,  we  make  the  best  authority  among  the  modems 
12* 


138 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


serve  the  same  purpose.  The  great  variety  of  excellent 
portraits  with  which  Vandyke  has  enriched  this  nation,  we 
are  not  content  to  admire  for  their  real  excellence,  but  ex- 
tend our  approbation  even  to  the  dress  which  happened  to 
be  the  fashion  of  that  age.  We  all  very  well  remember 
how  common  it  was  a  few  years  ago  for  portraits  to  be 
drawn  in  this  fantastic  dress;  and  this  custom  is  not  yet 
entirely  laid  aside.  By  this  means  it  must  be  acknowl- 
edged very  ordinary  pictures  acquired  something  of  the  air 
and  effect  of  the  works  of  Vandyke,  and  appeared  there- 
fore at  first  sight  to  be  better  pictures  than  they  really 
were ;  they  appeared  so,  however,  to  those  only  who  had 
the  means  of  making  this  association ;  and  when  made,  it 
was  irresistible.  But  this  association-  is  nature,  and  refers 
to  that  secondary  truth  that  comes  from  conformity  to  gene- 
ral prejudice  and  opinion ;  it  is  therefore  not  merely  fan- 
tastical. Besides  the  prejudice  which  we  have  in  favor  of 
ancient  dresses,  there  may  be  likewise  other  reasons  for  the 
effect  which  they  produce ;  among  which  we  may  justly 
rank  the  simplicity  of  them,  consisting  of  little  more  than 
one  single  piece  of  drapery,  without  those  whimsical  capri- 
cious forms  by  which  all  other  dresses  are  embarrassed. 

Thus,  though  it  is  from  the  prejudice  we  have  in  favor 
of  the  ancients,  who  have  taught  us  architecture,  that  we 
have  adopted  likewise  their  ornaments ;  and  though  we  are 
satisfied  that  neither  nature  nor  reason  are  the  foundation 
of  those  beauties  which  we  imagine  we  see  in  that  art,  yet 
if  any  one,  persuaded  of  this  truth,  should  therefore  invent 
new  orders  of  equal  beauty,  which  we  will  suppose  to  be 
possible,  they  would  not  please ;  nor  ought  he  to  complain, 
since  the  old  has  that  great  advantage  of  having  custom 
and  prejudice  on  its  side.    In  this  case  we  leave  what  has 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


139 


every  prejudice  in  its  favor,  to  take  that  which  will  have  no 
advantage  over  what  we  have  left,  but  novelty ;  which  soon 
destroys  itself,  and  at  any  rate  is  but  a  weak  antagonist 
against  custom. 

Ancient  ornaments,  having  the  right  of  possession, 
ought  not  to  be  removed,  unless  to  make  room  for  that 
which  not  only  has  higher  pretensions,  but  such  pretensions 
as  will  balance  the  evil  and  confusion  which  innovation 
always  brings  with  it. 

To  this  we  may  add,  that  even  the  durability  of  the 
materials  will  often  contribute  to  give  a  superiority  to  one 
object  over  another.  Ornaments  in  buildings,  with  which 
taste  is  principally  concerned,  are  composed  of  materials 
which  last  longer  than  those  of  which  dress  is  composed ; 
the  former,  therefore,  make  higher  pretensions  to  our  favor 
and  prejudice. 

Some  attention  is  surely  due  to  what  we  can  no  more 
get  rid  of,  than  we  can  go  out  of  ourselves.  We  are  crea- 
tures of  prejudice ;  we  neither  can  nor  ought  to  eradicate 
it ;  we  must  only  regulate  it  by  reason ;  which  kind  of 
regulation  is  indeed  little  more  than  obliging  the  lesser,  the 
local  and  temporary  prejudices,  to  give  way  tOythose  which 
are  more  durable  and  lasting. 

He,  therefore,  who  in  his  practice  of  portrait-painting, 
wishes  to  dignify  his  subject,  which  we  will  suppose  to  be 
a  lady,  will  not  paint  her  in  the  modern  dress,  the  familiari- 
ty of  which  alone  is  sufficient  to  destroy  all  dignity.  He 
takes  care  that  his  work  shall  correspond  to  those  ideas  and 
that  imagination  which  he  knows  will  regulate  the  judg- 
ment of  others ;  and,  therefore,  dresses  his  figure  some- 
thing with  the  general  air  of  the  antique  for  the  sake  of 
dignity,  and  preserves  something  of  the  modern  for  the 


140 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


sake  of  likeness.  By  this  conduct  his  works  correspond 
with  those  prejudices  which  we  have  in  favor  of  what  we 
continually  see ;  and  the  relish  of  the  antique  simplicity  cor- 
responds with  what  we  may  call  the  more  learned  and  sci- 
entific prejudice. 

There  was  a  statue  made  not  long  since  of  Voltaire, 
which  the  sculptor,  not  having  that  respect  for  the  preju- 
dices of  mankind  which  he  ought  to  have  had,  made  en- 
tirely naked,  and  as  meagre  and  emaciated  as  the  original 
is  said  to  be.  The  consequence  was  what  might  have  been 
expected  :  it  remained  in  the  sculptor's  shop,  though  it  was 
intended  as  a  public  ornament  and  a  public  honor  to  Vol- 
taire, for  it  was  procured  at  the  expense  of  his  contempo- 
rary wits  and  admirers. 

Whoever  would  reform  a  nation,  supposing  a  bad  taste 
to  prevail  in  it,  will  not  accomplish  his  purpose  by  going 
directly  against  the  stream  of  their  prujudices.  Men's 
minds  must  be  prepared  to  receive  what  is  new  to  them. 
Reformation  is  a  work  of  time.  A  national  taste,  however 
wrong  it  may  be,  can  not  be  totally  changed  at  once ;  we 
must  yield  a  little  to  the  prepossession  which  has  taken 
hold  on  the  mind,  and  we  may  then  bring  people  to  adopt 
what  would  offend  them,  if  endeavored  to  be  introduced  by 
violence.  When  Baptista  Franco  was  employed,  in  con- 
junction with  Titian,  Paul  Veronese  and  Tintoret,  to  adorn 
the  library  of  St.  Mark,  his  work,  Vasari  says,  gave  less 
satisfaction  than  any  of  the  others  :  the  dry  manner  of  the 
Reman  school  was  very  ill  calculated  to  please  eyes  that 
had  been  accustomed  to  the  luxuriancy,  splendor,  and  rich- 
ness of  Venetian  coloring.  Had  the  Romans  been  the 
judges  of  this  work,  probably  the  determination  would  have 
been  just  contrary ;  for  in  the  more  noble  parts  of  the 


THE  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


141 


art  Battista  Franco  was  perhaps  not  inferior  to  any  of  his 
rivals. 

Gentlemen, 

It  has  been  the  main  scope  and  principal  end  of  this 
discourse  to  demonstrate  the  reality  of  a  standard  in  taste, 
as  well  as  in  corporeal  beauty ;  that  a  false  or  depraved 
taste,  is  a  thing  as  well  known,  as  easily  discovered,  as  any- 
thing that  is  deformed,  mis-shapen,  or  wrong,  in  our 
form  or  outward  make;  and  that  this  knowledge  is  de- 
rived from  the  uniformity  of  sentiments  among  mankind, 
from  whence  proceeds  the  knowledge  of  what  are  the  gene- 
ral habits  of  nature ;  the  result  of  which  is  an  idea  of  perfect 
beauty. 

If  what  has  been  advanced  be  true, — that  beside  this 
beauty  or  truth,  which  is  formed  on  the  uniform,  eternal, 
and  immutable  laws  of  nature,  and  which  of  necessity  can 
be  but  one;  that  beside  this  one  immutable  verity  there  are 
likewise  what  we  have  called  apparent  or  secondary  truths, 
proceeding  from  local  and  temporary  prejudices,  fancies, 
fashions  or  accidental  connection  of  ideas ;  if  it  appears  that 
these  last  have  still  their  foundation,  however  slender,  in 
the  original  fabric  of  our  minds ;  it  follows  that  all  these 
truths  or  beauties  deserve  and  require  the  attention  of  the 
artist,  in  proportion  to  their  stability  or  duration,  or  as  their 
influence  is  more  or  less  extensive.  And  let  me  add,  that 
as  they  ought  not  to  pass  their  just  bounds,  so  neither  do 
they,  in  a  well-regulated  taste,  at  all  prevent  or  weaken  the 
influence  of  those  general  principles,  which  alone  can  give 
to  art  its  true  and  permanent  dignity. 

To  form  this  just  taste  is  undoubtedly  in  your  own 
power,  but  it  is  to  reason  and  philosophy  that  you  must  have 


142 


Til E  SEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


course ;  from  tlicm  you  must  borrow  the  balance,  by  which 
is  to  be  weighed  and  estimated  the  value  of  every  pretension 
that  intrudes  itself  on  your  notice. 

The  general  objection  which  is  made  to  the  introduction 
of  Philosophy  into  the  regions  of  taste,  is,  that  it  checks 
and  restrains  the  flights  of  the  imagination,  and  gives  that 
timidity,  which  an  over-carefulness  not  to  err  or  act  con- 
trary to  reason  is  likely  to  produce.  It  is  not  so.  Fear  is 
neither  reason  nor  philosophy.  The  true  spirit  of  philoso- 
phy, by  giving  knowledge,  gives  a  manly  confidence,  and 
substitutes  rational  firmness  in  the  place  of  vain  presump- 
tion. A  man  of  real  taste  is  always  a  man  of  judgment  in 
other  respects ;  and  those  inventions  which  either  disdain  or 
shrink  from  reason,  are  generally,  I  fear,  more  like  the 
dreams  of  a  distempered  brain,  than  the  exalted  enthusiasm 
of  a  sound  and  true  genius.  In  the  midst  of  the  highest 
flights  of  fancy  or  imagination,  reason  ought  to  preside  from 
first  to  last,  though  I  admit  her  more  powerful  operation  is 
upon  reflection. 

Let  me  add,  that  some  of  the  greatest  names  of  anti- 
quity, and  those  who  have  most  distinguished  themselves 
in  works  of  genius  and  imagination,  were  equally  eminent 
for  their  critical  skill.  Plato,  Aristotle,  Cicero,  and 
Horace ;  and  among  the  moderns,  Boileau,  Corneillc,  Pope, 
and  Dryden,  are  at  least  instances  of  genius  not  being  de- 
stroyed by  attention  or  subjection  to  rules  and  science.  I 
should  hope,  therefore,  that  the  natural  consequence  of 
what  has  been  said,  would  be,  to  excite  in  you  a  desire  of 
knowing  the  principles  and  conduct  of  the  great  masters  of 
our  art,  and  respect  and  veneration  for  them  when  known. 


DISCOURSE  VIII. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  10,  1778. 

The  principles  of  Art,  whether  Poetry  or  Painting,  have  their  foundations  in  the 
mind;  such  as  novelty,  variety,  and  contrast;  these  in  their  excess  become  de- 
fects.— Simplicity,  its  excess  disagreeable. — Rules  not  to  be  always  observed  in 
their  literal  sense ;  sufficient  to  preserve  the  spirit  of  the  law. — Observations  on 
the  Prize  Pictures. 

GENTLEMEN, 

I  have  recommended  in  former*  discourses,  that  Artists 
should  learn  their  profession  by  endeavoring  to  form  an  idea 
of  perfection  from  the  different  excellencies  which  lie  dis- 
persed in  the  various  schools  of  painting.  Some  difficulty 
will  still  occur,  to  know  what  is  beauty,  and  where  it  may 
be  found  :  one  would  wish  not  to  be  obliged  to  take  it  en- 
tirely on  the  credit  of  fame ;  though  to  this,  I  acknowledge, 
the  younger  students  must  unavoidably  submit.  Any  sus- 
picion in  them  of  the  chance  of  their  being  deceived,  will 
have  more  tendency  to  obstruct  their  advancement,  than  even 
an  enthusiastic  confidence  in  the  perfection  of  their  models. 
But  to  the  more  advanced  in  the  art,  who  wish  to  stand  on 
more  stable  and  firmer  ground,  and  to  establish  principles  on 
stronger  foundation  than  authority,  however  venerable  or 
powerful,  it  may  be  safely  told  that  there  is  still  a  higher 
tribunal,  to  which  those  great  masters  themselves  must  sub- 
mit, and  to  which  indeed  every  excellence  in  art  must  be 
ultimately  referred.    He  who  is  ambitious  to  enlarge  the 

Discourses  II.  and  VI. 


144 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


boundaries  of  his  art,  must  extend  his  views,  beyond  the 
precepts  which  are  found  in  books  or  may  be  drawn  from 
the  practice  of  his  predecessors,  to  a  knowledge  of  those 
precepts  in  the  mind,  those  operations  of  intellectual  na- 
ture,— to  which  every  thing  that  aspires  to  please,  must 
be  proportioned  and  accommodated. 

Poetry  having  a  more  extensive  power  than  our  art,  ex- 
erts its  influence  over  almost  all  the  passions ;  among  those 
may  be  reckoned  one  of  our  most  prevalent  dispositions,  anx- 
iety for  the  future.  Poetry  operates  by  raising  our  curiosity, 
engaging  the  mind  by  degrees  to  take  an  interest  in  the 
event,  keeping  that  event  suspended,  and  surprising  at  last 
with  an  unexpected  catastrophe. 

The  painter's  art  is  more  confined,  and  has  nothing  that 
corresponds  with,  or  perhaps  is  equivalent  to,  this  power 
and  advantage  of  leading  the  mind  on,  till  attention  is  to- 
tally engaged.  What  is  done  by  Painting,  must  be  done 
at  one  blow ;  curiosity  has  received  at  once  all  the  satisfac- 
tion it  can  ever  have.  There  are,  however,  other  intellec- 
tual qualities  and  dispositions  which  the  Painter  can  satisfy 
and  affect  as  powerfully  as  the  poet ;  among  those  we  may 
reckon  our  love  of  novelty,  variety,  and  contrast;  these 
qualities,  on  examination,  will  be  found  to  refer  to  a  certain 
activity  and  restlessness  which  has  a  pleasure  and  delight 
in  being  exercised  and  put  in  motion.  Art,  therefore,  only 
administers  to  those  wants  and  desires  of  the  mind. 

It  requires  no  long  disquisition  to  show,  that  the  dispo- 
sitions which  I  have  stated  actually  subsist  in  the  human 
mind.  Variety  re-animates  the  attention,  which  is  apt  to 
languish  under  a  continual  sameness.  Novelty  makes  a 
more  forcible,  impression  on  the  mind,  than  can  be  made  by 
the  representation  of  what  we  have  often  seen  before;  and 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


145 


contrasts  rouse  the  power  of  comparison  by  opposition.  All 
this  is  obvious ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  remem- 
bered, that  the  mind,  though  an  active  principle,  has  like- 
wise a  disposition  to  indolence ;  and  though  it  loves  exer- 
cise, loves  it  only  to  a  certain  degree,  beyond  which  it  is 
very  unwilling  to  be  led,  or  driven )  the  pursuit  therefore 
of  novelty  and  variety  may  be  carried  to  excess.  When 
variety  entirely  destroys  the  pleasure  proceeding  from  uni- 
formity and  repetition,  and  when  novelty  counteracts  and 
shuts  out  the  pleasure  arising  from  old  habits  and  customs, 
they  oppose  too  much  the  indolence  of  our  disposition  :  the 
mind,  therefore,  can  bear  with  pleasure  but  a  small  portion 
of  novelty  at  a  time.  The  main  part  of  the  work  must  be 
in  the  mode  to  which  we  have  been  used.  An  affection  to 
old  habits  and  customs  I  take  to  be  the  predominant  dispo- 
sition of  the  mind,  and  novelty  comes  as  an  exception ; 
where  all  is  novelty,  the  attention,  the  exercise  of  the  mind 
is  too  violent.  Contrast,  in  the  same  manner,  when  it  ex- 
ceeds certain  limits,  is  as  disagreeable  as  a  violent  and  per- 
petual opposition  j  it  gives  to  the  senses,  in  their  progress, 
a  more  sudden  change  than  they  can  bear  with  pleasure. 

It  is  then  apparent,  that  those  qualities,  however  they 
contribute  to  the  perfection  of  Art,  when  kept  within  cer- 
tain bounds,  if  they  are  carried  to  excess,  become  defects, 
and  require  correction  :  a  work,  consequently,  will  not  pro- 
ceed better  and  better  as  it  is  more  varied ;  variety  can 
never  be  the  ground-work  and  principle  of  the  performance 
— it  must  be  only  employed  to  recreate  and  relieve. 

To  apply  these  general  observations  which  belong 
equally  to -all  arts,  to  ours  in  particular.  In  a  composition, 
when  the  objects  are  scattered  and  divided  into  many  equal 
parts,  the  eye  is  perplexed  and  fatigued,  from  not  knowing 
13 


146 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


where  to  find  the  principal  action,  or  which  is  the  principal 
figure  j  for  where  all  are  making  equal  pretensions  to  notice, 
all  are  in  equal  danger  of  neglect. 

The  expression  which  is  used  very  often,  on  these  occa- 
sions is,  the  piece  wants  repose ;  a  word  which  perfectly  ex- 
presses a  relief  of  the  mind  from  that  state  of  hurry  and 
anxiety  which  it  suffers,  when  looking  at  a  work  of  this 
character. 

On  the  other  hand,  absolute  unity,  that  is,  a  large  work, 
consisting  of  one  group  or  mass  of  light  only,  would  be  as 
defective  as  an  heroic  poem  without  episode,  or  any  collat- 
eral incidents  to  recreate  the  mind  with  that  variety  which 
it  always  requires. 

An  instance  occurs  to  me  of  two  painters,  (Rembrandt 
and  Poussin,)  of  characters  totally  opposite  to. each  other 
in  every  respect,  but  in  nothing  more  than  in  their  mode 
of  composition,  and  management  of  light  and  shadow.  Rem- 
brandt's manner  is  absolute  unity.;  he  often  has  but  one 
group,  and  exhibits  little  more  than  one  spot  of  light  in  the 
midst  of  a  large  quantity  of  shadow :  if  he  has  a  second 
mass,  that  second  bears  no  proportion  to  the  principal. 
Poussin,  on  the  contrary,  has  scarce  any  principal  mass  of 
light  at  all,  and  his  figures  are  often  too  much  dispersed, 
without  sufficient  attention  to  place  them  in  groups. 

The  conduct  of  these  two  painters  is  entirely  the  reverse 
of  what  might  be  expected  from  their  general  style  and  char- 
acter ;  the  works  of  Poussin  being  as  much  distinguished  for 
simplicity,  as  those  of  Rembrandt  for  combination.  Even 
this  conduct  of  Poussin  might  proceed  from  too  great  an 
affection  to  simplicity  of  another  kind;  too  great  a  desire  to 
avoid  that  ostentation  of  art,  with  regard  to  light  and  shadow, 
on  which  Rembrandt  so  much  wished  to  draw  the  attention ; 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


147 


however,  each  of  them  ran  into  contrary  extremes,  and  it  is 
difficult  to  determine  which  is  the  most  reprehensible,  both 
being  equally  distant  from  the  demands  of  nature,  and  the 
purposes  of  art. 

The  same  just  moderation  must  be  observed  in  regard 
to  ornaments;  nothing  will  contribute  more  to  destroy 
repose  than  profusion,  of  whatever  kind,  whether  it  con- 
sists in  the  multiplicity  of  objects,  or  the  variety  and 
brightness  of  colors.  On  the  other  hand,  a  work  without 
ornament,  instead  of  simplicity,  to  which  it  makes  preten- 
sions, has  rather  the  appearance  of  poverty.  The  degree 
to  which  ornaments  are  admissible  must  be  regulated  by 
the  professed  style  of  the  work ;  but  we  may  be  sure  of 
this  truth — that  the  most  ornamental  style  requires  repose 
to  set  off  even  its  ornaments  to  advantage.  I  can  not  avoid 
mentioning  here  an  instance  of  repose,  in  that  faithful  and 
accurate  painter  of  nature,  Shakspeare ;  the  short  dialogue 
between  Duncan  and  Banquo,  whilst  they  are  approaching 
the  gates  of  Macbeth's  castle.  Their  conversation  very 
naturally  turns  upon  the  beauty  of  its  situation,  and  the 
pleasantness  of  the  air :  and  Banquo,  observing  the  mart- 
lets' nests  in  every  recess  of  the  cornice,  remarks,  that 
where  those  birds. most  breed  and  haunt,  the  air  is  delicate. 
The  subject  of  this  quiet  and  easy  conversation  gives  that 
repose  so  necessary  to  the  mind,  after  the  tumultuous 
bustle  of  the  preceding  scenes,  and  perfectly  contrasts  the 
scene  of  horror  that  immediately  succeeds.  It  seems  as  if 
Shakspeare  asked  himself,  what  is  a  prince  likely  to  say  to 
his  attendants  on  such  an  occasion  ?  The  modern  writers 
seem,  on  the  contrary,  to  be  always  searching  for  new 
thoughts,  such  as  never  could  occur  to  man  in  the  situation 
represented.    This  is  also  frequently  the  practice  of  Ho- 


148 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


mer;  who,  from  the  midst  of  battles  and  horrors,  relieves 
and  refreshes  the  mind  of  the  reader,  by  introducing  some 
quiet  rural  image,  or  picture  of  familiar  domestic  life.  The 
writers  of  every  age  and  country,  where  taste  has  begun  to 
decline,  paint  and  adorn  every  object  they  touch ;  are  al- 
ways on  the  stretch ;  never  deviate  or  sink  a  moment  from 
the  pompous  and  the  brilliant.  Lucan,  Statius,  and  Clau- 
dian,  (as  a  learned  critic  has  observed,)  are  examples  of 
this  bad  taste  and  want  of  judgment :  they  never  soften 
their  tones,  or  condescend  to  be  natural ;  all  is  exaggera- 
tion and  perpetual  splendor,  without  affording  repose  of 
any  kind. 

As  we  are  speaking,  of  excesses,  it  will  not  be  remote 
from  our  purpose  to  say  a  few  words  upon  simplicity; 
which,  in  one  of  the  senses  in  which  it  is  used,  is  con- 
sidered as  the  general  corrector  of  excess.  We  shall  at 
present  forbear  to  consider  it  as  implying  that  exact  con- 
duct which  proceeds  from  an  intimate  knowledge  of  simple 
unadulterated  nature,  as  it  is  then  only  another  word  for 
'perfection,  which  neither  stops  short  of,  nor  oversteps, 
reality  and  truth. 

In  our  inquiry  after  simplicity,  as  in  many  other  in- 
quiries of  this  nature,  we  can  best  explain  what  is  right, 
by  showing  what  is  wrong ;  and,  indeed,  in  this  case  it 
seems  to  be  absolutely  necessary  :  simplicity,  being  only  a 
negative  virtue,  can  not  be  described  or  defined.  We  must 
therefore  explain  its  nature,  and  show  the  advantage  and 
beauty  which  is  derived  from  it,  by  showing  the  deformity 
which  proceeds  from  its  neglect. 

Though  instances  of  this  neglect  might  be  expected  to 
be  found  in  practice,  we  should  not  expect  to  find  in  the 
works  of  critics,  precepts  that  bid  defiance  to  simplicity 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


149 


and  every  thing  that  relates  to  it.  Du  Piles  recommends 
to  us  portrait  painters,  to  add  grace  and  dignity  to  the 
characters  of  those  whose  pictures  we  draw :  so  far,  he  is 
undoubtedly  right ;  but,  unluckily,  he  descends  to  particu- 
lars, and  gives  his  own  idea  of  grace  and  dignity;  "If," 
says  he,  "you  draw  persons  of  high  character  and  dignity, 
they  ought  to  be  drawn  in  such  an  attitude  that  the  Por- 
traits must  seem  to  speak  to  lis  of  themselves ;  and,  as  it 
were,  to  say  to  us,  'Stop,  take  notice  of  me,  I  am  that  in- 
vincible King,  surrounded  by  Majesty :'  'I  am  that  valiant 
commander,  who  struck  terr.or  every  where:'  'I  am  thai 
great  minister,  who  knew  all  the  springs  of  politics :'  'I  am 
that  magistrate  of  consummate  wisdom  and  probity.' "  He 
goes  on  in  this  manner  with  all  the  characters  he  can  think 
on.  Wo  may  contrast  the  tumor  of  this  presumptuous  lof- 
tiness with  the  natural,  unaffected  air  of  the  portraits  of 
Titian,  where  dignity,  seeming  to  be  natural  and  inhe- 
rent, draws  spontaneous  reverence,  and  instead  of  being 
thus  vainly  assumed,  has  the  appearance  of  an  unalien- 
able adjunct;  whereas  such  pompous  and  labored  inso- 
lence of  grandeur  is  so  far  from  creating  respect,  that 
it  betrays  vulgarity  and  meanness,  and  new-acquired  con- 
sequence. 

The  painters,  many  of  them  at  least,  have  not  been 
backward  in  adopting  the  notions  contained  in  these  pre- 
cepts. The  portraits  of  Rigaud  are  perfect  examples  of 
an  implicit  observance  of  these  rules  of  Du  Piles ;  so  that 
though  he  was  a  painter  of  great  merit  in  many  respects, 
yet  that  merit  is  entirely  overpowered  by  a  total  absence 
of  simplicity  in  every  sense. 

Not  to  multiply  instances,  which  might  be  produced  for 
this  purpose,  from  the  works  of  history  painters,  I  shall 
13* 


150 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


mention  only  one — a  picture  which  I  have  seen,  of  the 
Supreme  Being,  by  Coypell. 

This  subject  the  Roman  Catholic  painters  have  taken 
the  liberty  to  represent,  however  indecent  the  attempt, 
and  however  obvious  the  impossibility  of  any  approach  to 
an  adequate  representation ;  but  here  the  air  and  character 
which  the  Painter  has  given,  and  he  has  doubtless  given 
the  highest  he  could  conceive,  are  so  degraded  by  an  at- 
tempt at  such  dignity  as  Du  Piles  has  recommended,  that 
we  are  enraged  at  the  folly  and  presumption  of  the  artist, 
and  consider  it  as  little  less  than  profanation. 

As  we  have  passed  to  a  neighboring  nation  for  instances 
of  want  of  this  quality,  we  must  acknowledge  at  the  same 
time,  that  they  have  produced  great  examples  of  simplicity, 
in  Poussin  and  Le  Sueur.  But  as  we  are  speaking  of  the 
most  refined  and  subtle  notion  of  perfection,  may  we  not 
inquire,  whether  a  curious  eye  can  not  discern  some  faults, 
even  in  those  great  men  ?  I  can  fancy,  that  even  Poussin, 
by  abhorring  that  affectation  and  that  want  of  simplicity, 
which  he  observed  in  his  countrymen,  has,  in  certain  partic- 
ulars, fallen  into  the  contrary  extreme,  so  far  as  to  approach 
to  a  kind  of  affectation :  to  what,  in  writing  would  be 
called  pedantry. 

When  simplicity,  instead  of  being  a  corrector,  seems 
to  set  up  for  herself;  that  is,  when  an  artist  seems  to  value 
himself  solely  upon  this  quality ;  such  an  ostentatious  dis- 
play of  simplicity  becomes  then  as  disagreeable  and  nause- 
ous as  any  other  kind  of  affectation.  He  is,  however,  in 
this  case,  likely  enough  to  sit  down  contented  with  his  own 
work,  for  though  he  finds  the  world  look  at  it  with  indiffer- 
ence or  dislike,  as  being  destitute  of  every  quality  that  can 
recreate  or  give  pleasure  to  the  mind,  yet  he  consoles  him- 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


151 


self  that  it  has  simplicity,  a  beauty  of  too  pure  and  chaste 
a  nature  to  be  relished  by  vulgar  minds 

It  is  in  art  as  in  morals;  no  character  would  inspire  us 
with  an  enthusiastic  admiration  of  his  virtue,  if  that  virtue 
consisted  only  in  an  absence  of  vice;  something  more  is 
required :  a  man  must  do  more  than  merely  his  duty,  to  be 
a  hero. 

Those  works  of  the  ancients,  which  are  in  the  highest 
esteem,  have  something  beside  mere  simplicity  to  recom- 
mend them.  The  Apollo,  the  Venus,  the  Laocoon,  the 
Gladiator,  have  a  certain  composition  of  action,  have  con- 
trasts sufficient  to  give  grace  and  energy  in  a  high  degree ; 
but  it  must  be  confessed  of  the  many  thousand  antique 
statues  which  we  have,  that  their  general  characteristic  is 
bordering  at  least  on  inanimate  insipidity. 

Simplicity,  when  so  very  inartificial  as  to  seem  to  evade 
the  difficulties  of  art,  is  a  very  suspicious  virtue. 

I  do  not,  however,  wish  to  degrade  simplicity  from  the 
high  estimation  in  which  it  has  been  ever  justly  held.  It 
is  our  barrier  against  that  great  enemy  to  truth  and  nature, 
Affectation,  which  is  ever  clinging  to  the  pencil,  and  ready 
to  drop  in  .  and  poison  every  thing  it  touches. 

Our  love  and  affection  to  simplicity  proceeds  in  a  great 
measure  from  our  aversion  to  every  kind  of  affectation. 
There  is  likewise  another  reason  why  so  much  stress  is  laid 
upon  this  virtue ;  the  propensity  which  artists  have  to  fall 
into  the  contrary  extreme  ;  we  therefore  set  a  guard  on  that 
side  which  is  most  assailable.  When  a  young  artist  is 
first  told  that  his  composition  and  his  attitudes  must  be 
contrasted,  that  he  must  turn  the  head  contrary  to  the  posi- 
tion of  the  body,  in  order  to  produce  grace  and  animation ; 
that  his  outline  must  be  undulating,  and  swelling,  to  give 


152 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


grandeur ;  and  that  the  eye  must  be  gratified  with  a  variety 
of  colors;  when  he  is  told  this,  with  certain  animating 
words  of  Spirit,  Dignity,  Energy,  Grace,  greatness  of  Style, 
and  brilliancy  of  Tints,  he  becomes  suddenly  vain  of  his 
newly  acquired  knowledge,  and  never  thinks  he  can  carry 
those  rules  too  far.  It  is  then  that  the  aid  of  simplicity 
ought  to  be  called  in  to  correct  the  exuberance  of  youthful 
ardor. 

The  same  may  be  said  in  regard  to  coloring,  which  in 
its  pre-eminence  is  particularly  applied  to  flesh.  An  artist 
in  his  first  essay  of  imitating  nature,  would  make  the  whole 
mass  of  one  color,  as  the  oldest  painters  did ;  till  he  is 
taught  to  observe  not  only  the  variety  of  tints,  which  are 
in  the  object  itself,  but  the  differences  produced  by  the 
gradual  decline  of  light  to  shadow;  he  then  immediately 
puts  his  instruction  in  practice,  and  introduces  a  variety  of 
distinct  colors.  He  must  then  be  again  corrected  and 
told,  that  though  there  is  this  variety,  yet  the  effect  of  the 
whole  upon  the  eye  must  have  the  union  and  simplicity  of 
the  coloring  of  nature. 

And  here  we  may  observe,  that  the  progress  of  an  indi- 
vidual student  bears  a  great  resemblance  to  the  progress 
and  advancement  of  the  Art  itself.  Want  of  simplicity 
would  probably  be  not  one  of  the  defects  of  an  artist  who 
had  studied  nature  only,  as  it  was  not  of  the  old  masters, 
who  lived  in  the  time  preceding  the  great  Art  of  Painting ; 
on  the  contrary,  their  works  are  too  simple  and  too  in- 
artificial. 

The  Art  in  its  infancy,  like  the  first  work  of  a  student, 
was  dry,  hard,  and  simple.  But  this  kind  of  barbarous 
simplicity  would  be  better  named  Penury,  as  it  proceeds 
from  mere  want;  from  want   of  knowledge,  want  of 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


153 


resources,  want  of  abilities  to  be  otherwise  ;  their  simplicity 
was  the  offspring,  not  of  choice,  but  necessity. 

In  the  second  stage  they  were  sensible  of  this  poverty ; 
and  those  who  were  the  most  sensible  of  the  want,  were 
the  best  judges  of  the  measure  of  the  supply.  There  were 
painters  who  immerged  from  poverty  without  falling  into 
luxury.  Their  success  induced  others,  who  probably  never 
would  of  themselves  have  had  strength  of  mind  to  discover 
the  original  defect,  to  endeavor  at  the  remedy  by  an  abuse ; 
and  they  ran  into  the  contrary  extreme.  But  however  they 
may  have  strayed,  we  can  not  recommend  to  them  to  return 
to  that  simplicity  which  they  have  justly  quitted;  but  to 
deal  out  their  abundance  with  a  more  sparing  hand,  with  that 
dignity  which  makes  no  parade,  either  of  its  riches,  or  of  its 
art.  It  is  not  easy  to  give  a  f  ule  which  may  serve  to  fix  this 
just  and  correct  medium  ;  because  when  we  may  have  fixed, 
or  nearly  fixed  the  middle  point,  taken  as  a  general  principle, 
circumstances  may  oblige  us  to  depart  from  it,  either  on  the 
side  of  Simplicity,  or  on  that  of  Variety  and  Decoration. 

I  thought  it  necessary  in  a  former  discourse,  speaking 
of  the  difference  of  the  sublime  and  ornamental  style  of 
painting, — in  order  to  excite  your  attention  to  the  more 
manly,  noble,  and  dignified  manner — to  leave  perhaps  an 
impression  too  contemptuous  of  those  ornamental  parts  of 
our  Art,  for  which  many  have  valued  themselves,  and  many 
works  are  much  valued  and  esteemed. 

I  said  then,  what  I  thought  it  was  right  at  that  time 
to  say ;  I  supposed  the  disposition  of  young  men  more  in- 
clinable to  splendid  negligence,  than  perseverance  in  labor- 
ious application  to  acquire  correctness :  and  therefore  did  as 
we  do  in  making  what  is  crooked  straight,  by  bending  it  the 
contrary  way,  in  order  that  it  may  remain  straight  at  last. 


154 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


For  this  purpose,  then,  and  to  correct  excess  or  neglect 
of  any  kind,  we  may  here  add,  that  it  is  not  enough  that  a 
work  be  learned ;  it  must  be  pleasing ;  the  painter  must  add 
grace  to  strength,  if  he  desires  to  secure  the  first  impression 
in  his  favor.  Our  taste  has  a  kind  of  sensuality  about  it, 
as  well  as  a  love  of  the  sublime ;  both  these  qualities  of  the 
mind  are  to  have  their  proper  consequence,  as  far  as  they 
do  not  counteract  each  other ;  for  that  is  the  grand  error 
which  much  care  ought  to  be  taken  to  avoid. 

There  are  some  rules,  whose  absolute  authority,  like 
that  of  our  nurses,  continues  no  longer  than  while  we  are  in 
a  state  of  childhood.  One  of  the  first  rules,  for  instance, 
that  I  believe  every  master  would  give  to  a  young  pupil, 
respecting  his  conduct  and  management  of  light  and  sha- 
dow, would  be  what  Lionardo  da  Vinci  has  actually  given ; 
that  you  must  oppose  a  light  ground  to  the  shadowed  side 
of  your  figure,  and  a  dark  ground  to  the  light.  If  Lionardo 
had  lived  to  see  the  superior  splendor  and  effect  which  has 
been  since  produced  by  the  exactly  contrary  conduct, — by 
joining  light  to  light  and  shadow  to  shadow, — though  with- 
out doubt  he  would  have  admired  it,  yet,  as  it  ought  not, 
so  probably  it  would  not  be  the  first  rule  with  which  he 
would  have  begun  his  instructions. 

Again ;  in  the  artificial  management  of  the  figures,  it  is 
directed  that  they  shall  contrast  each  other  according  to  the 
rules  generally  given  :  that  if  one  figure  opposes  his  front 
to  the  spectator,  the  next  figure  is  to  have  his  back  turned, 
and  that  the  limbs  of  each  individual  figure  be  contrasted ; 
that  is,  if  the  right  leg  be  put  forward,  the  right  arm  is  to 
be  drawn  back. 

It  is  very  proper  that  those  rules  should  be  given  in  the 
Academy ;  it  is  proper  the  young  students  should  be  in- 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


155 


formed  that  some  research  is  to  be  made,  and  that  they 
should  be  habituated  to  consider  every  excellence  as  reduci- 
ble to  principles.  Besides,  it  is  the  natural  progress  of  in- 
struction to  teach  first  what  is  obvious  and  perceptible  to 
the  senses,  and  from  hence  proceed  gradually  to  notions 
large,  liberal,  and  complete,  such  as  comprise  the  more  re- 
fined and  higher  excellencies  in  Art.  But  when  students 
are  more  advanced,  they  will  find  that  the  greatest  beauties 
of  character  and  expression  are  produced  without  contrast ; 
nay  more,  that  this  contrast  would  ruin  and  destroy  that 
natural  energy  of  men  engaged  in  real  action,  unsolicitous 
of  grace.  St.  Paul,  preaching  at  Athens,  in  one  of  the  car- 
toons, far  from  any  academical  contrast  of  limbs,  stands 
equally  on  both  legs,  and  both  hands  are  in  the  same  atti- 
tude :  add  contrast,  and  the  whole  energy  and  unaffected 
grace  of  the  figure  is  destroyed.  Elymas  the  sorcerer 
stretches  both  hands  forward  in  the  same  direction,  which 
gives  perfectly  the  expression  intended.  Iudeed  you  never 
will  find  in  the  works  of  llaffaelle  any  of  those  school-boy 
affected  contrasts.  Whatever  contrast  there  is,  appears 
without  any  seeming  agency  of  art,  by  the  natural  chance 
of  things. 

What  has  been  said  of  the  evil  of  excesses  of  all  kinds, 
whether  of  simplicity,  variety,  or  contrast,  naturally  suggests 
to  the  painter  the  necessity  of  a  general  inquiry  into  the 
true  meaning  and  cause  of  rules,  and  how  they  operate  on 
those  faculties  to  which  they  are  addressed :  by  knowing 
their  general  purpose  and  meaning,  he  will  often  find  that 
he  need  not  confine  himself  to  the  literal  sense ;  it  will  be 
sufficient  if  he  preserve  the  spirit  of  the  law.  Critical  re- 
marks are  not  always  understood  without  examples  :  it  may 
not  be  improper,  therefore,  to  give  instances  where  the 


156 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


rule  itself,  though  generally  received,  is  false,  or  where  a  nar- 
row conception  Of  it  may  lead  the  artists  into  great  errors. 

It  is  given  as  a  rule  by  Fresnoy,  that  the  principal 
figure  of  a  subject  must  appear  in  the  midst  of  the  picture, 
under  the  principal  light,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  rest. 
A  painter  who  should  think  himself  obliged  secretly  to  fol- 
low this  rule,  would  encumber  himself  with  needless  diffi- 
culties ;  he  would  be  confined  to  great  uniformity  of  compo- 
sition, and  be  deprived  of  many  beauties  which  are  incom- 
patible with  its  observance.    The  meaning  of  this  rule 
extends,  or  ought  to  extend,  no  further  than  this  : — That 
the  principal  figure  should  be  immediately  distinguished  at 
the  first  glance  of  the  eye  ;  but  there  is  no  necessity  that  the 
principal  light  should  fall  on  the  principal  figure,  or  that 
the  principal  figure  should  be  in  the  middle  of  the  picture. 
It  is  sufficient  that  it  be  distinguished  by  its  place,  or  by 
the  attention  of  other  figures  pointing  it  out  to  the  specta- 
tor.   So  far  is  this  rule  from  being  indispensable,  that  it  is 
very  seldom  practised ;  other  considerations  of  greater  conse- 
quence often  standing  in  the  way.    Examples  in  opposition 
to  this  rule,  are  found  in  the  Cartoons,  in  Christ's  Charge 
to  Peter,  the  Preaching  of  St.  Paul,  and  Elymas  the  Sor- 
cerer, who  is  undoubtedly  the  principal  object  in  that  pic- 
ture.   In  none  of  those  compositions  is  the  principal  figure 
in  the  midst  of  the  picture.  In  the  very  admirable  composi- 
tion of  the  Tent  of  Darius,  by  Le  Brun,  Alexander  is  not  in 
the  middle  of  the  picture,  nor  does  the  principal  light  fall 
on  him ;  but  the  attention  of  all  the  other  figures  immedi- 
ately distinguishes  him,  and  distinguishes  him  more  pro- 
perly ;  the  greatest  light  falls  on  the  daughter  of  Darius, 
who  is  in  the  middle  of  the  picture,  where  it  is  more  neces- 
sary the  principal  light  should  be  placed. 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


157 


It  is  very  extraordinary  that  Felibien,  who  has  given  a 
very  minute  description  of  this  picture,  but  indeed  such  a 
description  as  may  be  called  rather  panegyric  than  criticism, 
thinking  it  necessary  (according  to  the  precept  of  Fres- 
noy)  that  Alexander  should  possess  the  principal  light,  has 
accordingly  given  it  to  him ;  he  might  with  equal  truth 
have  said  that  he  was  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  picture, 
as  he  seemed  resolved  to  give  this  piece  every  kind  of  excel- 
lence which  he  conceived  to  be  necessary  to  perfection.  His 
generosity  is  here  unluckily  misapplied,  as  it  would  have 
destroyed,"  in  a  great  measure,  the  beauty  of  the  compo- 
sition. 

Another  instance  occurs  to  me,  where  equal  liberty  may 
be  taken  in  regard  to  the  management  of  light.  Though 
the  general  practice  is,  to  make  a  large  mass  about  the  mid- 
dle of  the  picture  surrounded  by  shadow,  the  reverse  may 
be  practised,  and  the  spirit  of  the  rule  may  still  be  pre- 
served. Examples  of  this  principle  reversed  may  be  found 
very  frequently  in  the  works  of  the  Venetian  School.  In 
the  great  composition  of  Paul  Veronese,  the  Marriage 
AT  Can  A,  the  figures  are,  for  the  most  part,  in  half  shadow ; 
the  great  light  is  in  the  sky ;  and  indeed,  the  general  effect 
of  this  picture,  which  is  so  striking,  is  no  more  than  what 
we  often  see  in  landscapes,  in  small  pictures  of  fairs  and 
country  feasts ;  but  those  principles  of  light  and  shadow, 
being  transferred  to  a  large  scale,  to  a  space  containing  near 
a  hundred  figures  as  large  as  life,  and  conducted  to  all  appear- 
ance with  as  much  facility,  and  with  an  attention  as  stead- 
ily fixed  upon  the  whole  together,  as  if  it  were  a  small  pic- 
ture immediately  under  the  eye,  the  work  justly  excites  our 
admiration ;  the  difficulty  being  increased  as  the  extent  is 
enlarged. 

14 


158 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


The  various  modes  of  composition  are  infinite ;  some- 
times it  shall  consist  of  one  large  group  in  the  middle  of 
the  picture,  and  the  smaller  groups  on  each  side ;  or  a  plain 
space  in  the  middle,  and  the  groups  of  figures  ranked  round 
this  vacuity. 

Whether  this  principal  broad  light  be  in  the  middle 
space  of  ground,  as  in  the  School  of  Athens  or  in  the 
sky,  as  in  the  Marriage  at  Cana,  in  the  Andromeda, 
and  in  most  of  the  pictures  of  Paul  Veronese ;  or  whether 
the  light  be  on  the  groups ;  whatever  mode  of  composition 
is  adopted,  every  variety  and  license  is  allowable  :  this  only 
is  indisputably  necessary,  that  to  prevent  the  eye  from  be- 
ing distracted  and  confused  by  a  multiplicity  of  objects  of 
equal  magnitude,  those  objects,  whether  they  consist  of  lights, 
shadows,  or  figures,  must  be  disposed  in  large  masses  and 
groups  properly  varied  and  contrasted ;  that  to  a  certain 
quantity  of  action  a  proportioned  space  of  plain  ground  is 
required )  that  light  is  to  be  supported  by  sufficient  shadow  j 
and  we  may  add,  that  a  certain  quantity  of  cold  colors 
is  necessary  to  give  value  and  lustre  to  the  warm  colors  : 
what  those  proportions  are,  can  not  be  so  well  learnt  by  pre- 
cept as  by  observation  on  pictures,  and  in  this  knowledge 
"bad  pictures  will  instruct  as  well  as  good.  Our  inquiry 
why  pictures  have  a  bad  effect,  may  be  as  advantageous  as 
the  inquiry  why  they  have  a  good  effect ;  each  will  corrob- 
orate the  principles  that  are  suggested  by  the  other. 

Though  it  is  not  my  business  to  enter  into  the  detail  of 
our  Art,  yet  I  must  take  this  opportunity  of  mentioning 
one  of  the  means  of  producing  that  great  effect  which  we 
observe  in  the  works  of  the  Venetian  painters,  as  I  think 
it  is  not  generally  known  or  observed.  It  ought,  in  my 
opinion,  to  be  indispensably  observed,  that  the  masses  of 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


159 


light  in  a  picture  be  always  of  a  warm  mellow  color,  yellow, 
red,  or  a  yellowish-white ;  and  that  the  blue  j  the  grey,  or 
the  green  colors  be  kept  almost  entirely  out  of  these 
masses,  and  be  used  only  to  support  and  set  off  these  warm 
colors;  and  for  this  purpose,  a  small  proportion  of  cold 
colors  will  be  sufficient. 

Let  this  conduct  be  reversed ;  let  the  light  be  cold,  and 
the  surrounding  colors  warm,  as  we  often  see  in  the  works 
of  the  Roman  and  Florentine  painters,  and  it  will  be  out  of 
the  power  of  art,  even  in  the  hands  of  Rubens  or  Titian, 
to  make  a  picture  splendid  and  harmonious. 

Le  Brun  and  Carlo  Maratti  were  two  painters  of  great 
merit,  and  particularly  what  may  be  called  Academical 
Merit,  but  were  both  deficient  in  this  management  of 
colors ;  the  want  of  observing  this  rule  is  one  of  the 
causes  of  that  heaviness  of  effect  which  is  so  observable  in 
their  works.  The  principal  light  in  the  Picture  of  Le 
Brun,  which  I  just  now  mentioned,  falls  on  Statira,  who  is 
dressed  very  injudiciously  in  a  pale  blue  drapery  :  it  is  true, 
he  has  heightened  this  blue  with  gold,  but  that  is  not 
enough  j  the  whole  picture  has  a  heavy  air,  and  by  no 
means  answers  the  expectation  raised  by  the  print.  Pous- 
sin  often  made  a  spot  of  blue  drapery,  when  the  general 
hue  of  the  picture  was  inclinable  to  brown  or  yellow  ;  which 
shows  sufficiently,  that  harmony  of  coloring  was  not  a  part 
of  the  art  that  had  much  engaged  the  attention  of  that 
great  painter. 

The  conduct  of  Titian  in  the  picture  of  BACcnus  and 
Ariadne,  has  been  much  celebrated,  and  justly,  for  the 
harmony  of  coloring.  To  Ariadne  is  given  (say  the  critics) 
a  red  scarf,  to  relieve  the  figure  from  the  sea,  which  is  be- 
hind her.    It  is  not  for  that  reason,  alone,  but  for  another 


160 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


of  much  greater  consequence ;  for  the  sake  of  the  general 
harmony  and  effect  of  the  picture.  The  figure  of  Ariadne 
is  separated  from  the  great  group,  and  is  dressed  in  blue, 
which  added  to  the  color  of  the  sea,  makes  that  quantity  of 
cold  color  which  Titian  thought  necessary  for  the  support  and 
brilliancy  of  the  great  group  ;  which  group  is  composed,  with 
very  little  exception,  entirely  of  mellow  colors.  But  as 
the  picture  in  this  case  would  be  divided  into  two  distinct 
parts,  one  half  cold,  and  the  other  warm,  it  was  necessary 
to  carry  some  of  the  mellow  colors  of  the  great  group  into 
the  cold  part  of  the  picture,  and  a  part  of  the  cold  into  the 
great  group;  accordingly  Titian  gave  Ariadne  a  red  scarf, 
and  to  one  of  the  Bacchante  a  little  blue  drapery. 

The  light  of  the  picture,  as  I  observed,  ought  to  be  of 
a  warm  color ;  for  though  white  may  be  used  for  the  prin- 
cipal light,  as  was  the  practice  of  many  of  the  Dutch  and 
Flemish  painters,  yet  it  is  better  to  suppose  that  white 
illumined  by  the  yellow  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  as  was 
the  manner  of  Titian.  The  superiority  of  which  manner 
is  never  more  striking  than  when  in  a  collection  of  pictures 
we  chance  to  see  a  portrait  of  Titian's  hanging  by  the  side 
of  a  Flemish  picture  (even  though  that  should- be  of  the 
hand  of  Vandyck)  which,  however  admirable  in  other  res- 
pects, becomes  cold  and  grey  in  the  comparison. 

The  illuminated  parts  of  objects  are  in  nature  of  a 
warmer  tint  than  those  that  are  in  the  shade ;  what  I  have 
recommended,  therefore,  is  no  more  than  that  the  same 
conduct  be  observed  in  the  whole,  which  is  acknowledged 
to  be  necessary  in  every  individual  part.  It  is  presenting 
to  the  eye  the  same  effect  as  that  which  it  has  been 
accustomed  to  feel,  which,  in  this  case,  as  in  every  other, 
will  always  produce  beauty;  no  principle  therefore,  in 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


161 


our  art  can  be  more  certain,  or  is  derived  from  a  higher 
source. 

When  I  just  now  mentioned  the  supposed  reason  why 
Ariadne  has  part  of  her  drapery  red,  gives  me  occasion 
here  to  observe,  that  this  favorite  quality  of  giving  objects 
relief,  and  which  Du  Piles  and  all  the  Critics  have  con- 
sidered as  a  requisite  of  the  utmost  importance,  was  not 
one  of  those  objects  which  much  engaged  the  attention  of 
Titian  j  painters  of  an  inferior  rank  have  far  exceeded 
him  in  producing  this  effect.  This  was  a  great  object  of 
attention,  when  art  was  in  its  infant  state ;  as  it  is  at  present 
with  the  vulgar  and  ignorant,  who  feel  the  highest  satisfac- 
tion in  seeing  a  figure,  which,  as  they  say,  looks  as  if  they 
could  walk  round  it.  But  however  low  I  may  rate  this 
pleasure  of  deception,  I  should  not  oppose  it,  did  it  not  op- 
pose itself  to  a  quality  of  a  much  higher  kind,  by  counter- 
acting entirely  that  fullness  of  manner  which  is  so  difficult  to 
express  in  words,  but  which  is  found  in  perfection  in  the  best 
works  of  Correggio,  and  we  may  add,  of  Rembrandt.  This 
effect  is  produced  by  melting  and  losing  the  shadows  in  a 
ground  still  darker  than  those  shadows ;  whereas  that  relief  is 
produced  by  opposing  and  separating  the  ground  from  the 
figure,  either  by  light,  or  shadow,  or  color.  This  conduct  of 
in-laying,  as  it  may  be  called,  figures  on  their  ground,  in 
order  to  produce  relief,  was  the  practice  of  the  old  Painters, 
such  as  Andrea  Mantegna,  Pietro  Perugino,  and  Albert 
Durer;  and  to  these  we  may  add  the  first  manner  of  Leon- 
ardo da  Vinci,  Giorgione,  and  even  Correggio ;  but  these 
three  were  among  the  first  who  began  to  correct  themselves 
in  dryness  of  style,  by  no  longer  considering  relief  as  a  prin- 
cipal object.  As  those  two  qualities,  relief  and  fullness  of 
effect,  can  hardly  exist  together,  it  is  not  very  difficult  to 
14* 


162 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


determine  to  which  we  ought  to  give  the  preference.  An 
artist  is  obliged  forever  to  hold  a-  balance  in  his  hand,  by 
which  he  must  determine  the  value  of  different  qualities ; 
that,  when  some  fault  must  be  committed,  he  may  choose 
the  least.  Those  painters  who  have  best  understood  the  art 
of  producing  a  good  effect,  have  adopted  one  principle  that 
seems  perfectly  conformable  to  reason  ;  that  a  part  may  be 
sacrificed  for  the  good  of  the  whole.  Thus,  whether  the 
masses  consist  of  light  or  shadow,  it  is  necessary  that  they 
should  be  compact  and  of  a  pleasing  shape  :  to  this  end, 
some  parts  may  be  made  darker  and  some  lighter,  and  re- 
flections stronger  than  nature  would  warrant.  Paul  Vero- 
nese took  great  liberties  of  this  kind.  It  is  said,  that  being 
once  asked  why  certain  figures  were  painted  in  shade,  as  no 
cause  was  seen  in  the  picture  itself,  he  turned  off  the  inquiry 
by  answering,  "una  nuevola  che passa,"  a  cloud  is  passing, 
which  has  overshadowed  them. 

But  I  can  not  give  a  better  instance  of  this  practice  than 
a  picture  which  I  have  of  Rubens ;  it  is  a  representation  of 
a  Moonlight.  Rubens  has  not  only  diffused  more  light  over 
the  picture  than  is  in  nature,  but  has  bestowed  on  it  those 
warm  glowing  colors  by  which  his  works  are  so  much  dis- 
tinguished. It  is  so  unlike  what  any  other  painters  have 
given  us  of  Moonlight  that  it  might  be  easily  mistaken,  if 
he  had  not  likewise  added  stars,  for  a  fainter  setting  sun. 
Rubens  thought  the  eye  ought  to  be  satisfied  in  this  case, 
above  all  other  considerations ;  he  might,  indeed,  have 
made  it  more  natural,  but  it  would  have  been  at  the  expense 
of  what  he  thought  of  much  greater  consequence,  the  har- 
mony proceeding  from  the  contrast  and  variety  of  colors. 

This  same  picture  will  furnish  us  with  another  instance, 
where  we  must  depart  from  nature  for  a  greater  advantage. 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


163 


The  Moon  in  this  picture  does  not  preserve  so  great  a 
superiority  in  regard  to  its  lightness  over  the  subject  which 
it  illumines,  as  it  does  in  nature ;  this  is  likewse  an  in- 
tended deviation,  and  for  the  same  reason.  If  Rubens  had 
preserved  the  same  scale  of  gradation  of  light  between  the 
Moon  and  the  objects,  which  is  found  in  nature,  the  picture 
must  have  consisted  of  one  small  spot  of  light  only,  and  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  picture  nothing  but  this  spot  would 
have  been  seen.  It  may  be  said,  indeed,  that  this  being  the 
case,  it  is  a  subject  that  ought  not  to  be  painted;  but  then, 
for  the  same  reason,  neither  armor,  nor  any  thing  shining, 
ought  ever  to  be  painted ;  for  though  pure  white  is  used 
in  order  to  represent  the  greatest  light  of  shining  objects, 
it  will  not  in  the  picture  preserve  the  same  superiority  over 
flesh,  as  it  has  in  nature,  without  keeping  that  flesh-color 
of  a  very  low  tint.  Rembrandt,  who  thought  it  of  more 
consequence  to  paint  light  than  the  objects  that  are  seen 
by  it,  has  done  this  in  a  picture  of  Achilles  which  I  have. 
The  head  is  kept  down  to  a  very  low  tint,  in  order  to  pre- 
serve this  due  gradation  and  distinction  between  the  armor 
and  the  face ;  the  consequence  of  which  is,  that  upon  the 
whole,  the  picture  is  too  black.  Surely  too  much  is  sacri- 
ficed here  to  this  narrow  conception  of  nature  ;  allowing  the 
contrary  conduct  a  fault,  yet  it  must  be  acknowledged  a  less 
fault  than  making  a  picture  so  dark  that  it  can  not  be  seen 
without  a  peculiar  light,  and  then  with  difficulty.  The 
merit  or  demerit  of  the  different  conduct  of  Rubens  and 
Rembrandt  in  those  instances  which  I  have  given,  is  not  to 
be  determined  by  the  narrow  principles  of  nature,  separated 
from  its  effect  on  the  human  mind.  Reason  and  common 
sense  tell  us,  that  before,  and  above  all  other  considera- 
tions, it  is  necessary  that  the  work  should  be  seen,  not  only 


164 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


without  difficulty  or  inconvenience,  but  with  pleasure  and 
satisfaction ;  and  every  obstacle  which  stands  in  the  way  of 
this  pleasure  and  convenience  must  be  removed. 

The  tendency  of  this  Discourse,  with  the  instances 
which  have  been  given,  is  not  so  much  to  place  the  Artist 
above  rules,  as  to  teach  him  their  reason ;  to  prevent  him 
from  entertaining  a  narrow,  confined  conception  of  Art ;  to 
clear  his  mind  from  a  perplexed  variety  of  rules  and  their 
exceptions,  by  directing  his  attention  to  an  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  the  passions  and  affections  of  the  mind, 
from  which  all  rules  arise,  and  to  which  they  are  all  refera- 
ble. Art  effects  its  purpose  by  their  means ;  an  accurate 
knowledge,  therefore,  of  those  passions  and  dispositions  of 
the  mind  is  necessary  to  him  who  desires  to  affect  them 
upon  sure  and  solid  principles. 

A  complete  essay  or  inquiry  into  the  connection  between 
the  rules  of  Art,  and  the  eternal  and  immutable  disposi- 
tions of  our  passions,  would  be  indeed  going  at  once  to  the 
foundation  of  criticism ;  *  but  I  am  too  well  convinced  what 
extensive  knowledge,  what  subtle  and  penetrating  judg- 
ment would  be  required,  to  engage  in  such  an  undertaking ; 
it  is  enough  for  me,  if  in  the  language  of  painters,  I  have 
produced  a  slight  sketch  of  a  part  of  this  vast  composition, 
but  that  sufficiently  distinct  to  show  the  usefulness  of  such 
a  theory,  and  its  practicability. 

Before  I  conclude,  I  can  not  avoid  making  one  observa- 
tion on  the  pictures  now  before  us.  I  have  observed,  that 
every  candidate  has  copied  the  celebrated  invention  of 
Timanthes  in  hiding  the  face  of  Agamemnon  in  his  mantle ; 

*  This  was  inadvertently  said.  I  did  not  recollect  the  admira- 
ble treatise  On  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful. 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


165 


indeed,  such  lavish  encomiums  have  been  bestowed  on  this 
thought,  and  that  too  by  men  of  the  highest  character  in 
critical  knowledge, — Cicero,  Quintilian,  Valerius,  Maximus, 
and  Pliny, — and  have  been  since  re-echoed  by  almost  every 
modern  that  has  written  on  the  Arts,  that  your  adopting  it 
can  neither  be  wondered  at,  nor  blamed.  It  appears  now 
to  be  so  much  connected  with  the  subject,  that  the  specta- 
tor would  perhaps  be  disappointed  in  not  finding  united  in 
the  picture  what  he  always  united  in  his  mind,  and  consid- 
ered as  indispensably  belonging  to  the  subject.  But  it  may 
be  observed,  that  those  who  praise  this  circumstance  were 
not  painters.  They  use  it  as  an  illustration  only  of  their 
own  art ;  it  served  their  purpose,  and  it  was  certainly  not 
their  business  to  enter  into  the  objections  that  lie  against  it 
in  another  Art.  I  fear  we  have  but  very  scanty  means  of 
exciting  those  powers  over  the  imagination  which  make 
so  very  considerable  and  refined  a  part  of  poetry.  It  is  a 
doubt  with  me,  whether  we  should  even  make  the  attempt. 
The  chief,  if  not  the  only  occasion,  which  the  painter  has 
for  this  artifice,  is,  when  the  subject  is  improper  to  be  more 
fully  represented,  either,  for  the  sake  of  decency,  or  to 
avoid  what  would  be  disagreable  to  be  seen ;  and  this  is 
not  to  raise  or  increase  the  passions,  which  is  the  reason 
that  is  given  for  this  practice,  but  on  the  contrary  to  di- 
minish their  effect. 

It  is  true,  sketches,  or  such  drawings  as  painters  gener- 
ally make  for  their  works,  give  this  pleasure  of  imagination 
to  a  high  degree.  From  a  slight,  undetermined  drawing, 
where  the  ideas  of  the  composition  and  character  are,  as  I 
may  say,  only  just  touched  upon,  the  imagination  supplies 
more  than  the  painter  himself,  probably,  could  produce ; 
and  we  accordingly  often  find  that  the  finished  work  disap- 


166 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


points  the  expectation  that  was  raised  from  the  sketch ;  and 
this  power  of  the  imagination  is  one  of  the  causes  of  the 
great  pleasure  we  have  in  viewing  a  collection  of  drawings 
by  great  painters.  These  general  ideas,  which  are  express- 
ed in  sketches,  correspond  very  well  to  the  art  often  used 
in  Poetry.  A  great  part  of  the  beauty  of  the  celebrated 
description  of  Eve  in  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  consists  in 
using  only  general  indistinct  expressions,  every  reader 
making  out  the  detail  according  to  his  own  particular  im- 
agination ; — his  own  idea  of  beauty,  grace,  expression,  dig- 
nity, or  loveliness :  but  a  painter,  when  he  represents  Eve 
on  a  canvass,  is  obliged  to  give  a  determined  form,  and  his 
own  idea  of  beauty  distinctly  expressed. 

We  can  not  on  this  occasion,  nor  indeed  on  any  other, 
recommend  an  undeterminate  manner  or  vague  ideas  of  any 
kind,  in  a  complete  and  finished  picture.  This  notion, 
therefore,  of  leaving  any  thing  to  the  imagination,  opposes 
a  very  fixed  and  indispensable  rule  in  our  art,  that  every 
thing  shall  be  carefully  and  distinctly  expressed,  as  if  the 
painter  knew,  with  correctness  and  precision,  the  exact  form 
and  character  of  whatever  is  introduced  into  the  picture. 
This  is  what  with  us  is  called  Science,  and  Learning  :  which 
must  not  be  sacrificed  and  given  up  for  an  uncertain  and 
doubtful  beauty,  which,  not  naturally  belonging  to  our  Art, 
will  probably  be  sought  for  without  success. 

Mr.  Falconet  has  observed,  in  a  note  on  this  passage  in 
his  translation  of  Pliny,  that  the  circumstance  of  covering 
the  face  of  Agamemnon  was  probably  not  in  consequence 
of  any  fine  imagination  of  the  painter, — which  he  consid- 
ers as  a  discovery  of  the  critics, — but  merely  copied  from 
the  description  of  the  sacrifice,  as  it  is  found  in  Euripides. 

The  words  from  which  the  picture  is  supposed  to  be 


THE  EIGHTH  DISCOURSE. 


167 


taken,  arc  these :  Agamemnon  saw  Tphigenia  advance 
towards  the  fatal  altar ;  he  groaned,  he  tamed  aside  his 
head,  he  shed  tears,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  robe. 

Falconet  does  not  at  all  acquiesce  in  the  praise  that  is 
bestowed  on  Timanthes ;  not  only  because  it  is  not  his  in- 
vention, but  because  he  thinks  meanly  of  this  trick  of  con- 
cealing, except  in  instances  of  blood,  where  the  objects 
would  be  too  horrible  to  be  seen ;  but,  says  he,  "in  an 
afflicted  Father,  in  a  King,  in  Agamemnon,  you,  who  are  a 
painter,  conceal  from  me  the  most  interesting  circumstance, 
and  then  put  me  off  with  sophistry  and  a  veil.  You  are 
(he  adds)  a  feeble  Painter,  without  resource :  you  do  not 
know  even  those  of  your  Art :  I  care  not  what  veil  it  is, 
whether  closed  hands,  arms  raised,  or  any  other  action  that 
conceals  from  me  the  countenance  of  the  Hero.  You  think 
of  veiling  Agamemnon ;  you  have  unveiled  your  own 
ignorance.  A  Painter  who  represents  Agamemnon  veiled, 
is  as  ridiculous  as  a  Poet  would  be,  who  in  a  pathetic  situ- 
ation, in  order  to  satisfy  my  expectations,  and  rid  himself 
of  the  business,  should  say,  that  the  sentiments  of  his 
hero  are  so  far  above  whatever  can  be  said  on  the  occasion, 
that  he  shall  say  nothing." 

To  what  Falconet  has  said,  we  may  add,  that  supposing 
this  method  of  leaving  the  expression  of  grief  to  the  im- 
agination, to  be,  as  it  was  thought  to  be,  the  invention  of 
the  painter,  and  that  it  deserves  all  the  praise  that  has 
been  given  it,  still  it  is  a  trick  that  will  serve  but  once ; 
whoever  does  it  a  second  time,  will  not  only  want  novelty, 
but  be  justly  suspected  of  using  artifice  to  evade  difficul- 
ties. If  difficulties  overcome  make  a  great  part  of  the 
merit  of  Art,  difficulties  evaded  can  deserve  but  little 
commendation. 


DISCOURSE  IX. 

Delivered  at  the  Opening  of  the  Royal  Academy,  in  Somerset  Place, 
October  16,  1780. 

On  the  removal  of  the  Royal  Academy  to  Somerset  Place. — The  advantages  to 
Society  from  cultivating  intellectual  pleasure. 

GENTLEMEN, 

The  honor  which  the  Arts  acquire  by  being  permitted 
to  take  possession  of  this  noble  habitation,  is  one  of  the 
most  considerable  of  the  many  instances  we  have  received 
of  His  Majesty's  protection;  and  the  strongest  proof  of 
his  desire  to  make  the  Academy  respectable. 

Nothing  has  been  left  undone,  that  might  contribute  to 
excite  our  pursuit,  or  to  reward  our  attainments.  We  have 
already  the  happiness  of  seeing  the  Arts  in  a  state  to 
which  they  never  before  arrived  in  this  nation.  This 
Building,  in  which  we  are  now  assembled,  will  remain  to 
many  future  ages  an  illustrious  specimen  of  the  Archi- 
tect's* abilities.  It  is  our  duty  to  endeavor  that  those  who 
gaze  with  wonder  at  the  structure  may  not  be  disappointed 
when  they  visit  the  apartments.  It  will  be  no  small  addi- 
tion to  the  glory  which  this  nation  has  already  acquired 
from  having  given  birth  to  eminent  men  in  every  part  of 
science,  if  it  should  be  enabled  to  produce,  in  consequence 
of  this  institution,  a  School  of  English  Artists.  The  esti- 
mation in  which  we  stand  in  respect  to  our  neighbors,  "will 
be  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  we  excel  or  are 
inferior  to  them  in  the  acquisition  of  intellectual  excel- 


*  Sir  William  Chambers. 


THE  NINTH  DISCOURSE. 


169 


lencc,  of  which  Trade  and  its  consequential  riches  must  be 
acknowledged  to  give  the  means ;  but  a  people  whose  whole 
attention  is  absorbed  in  those  means,  and  who  forget  the 
end,  can  aspire  but  little  above  the  rank  of  a  barbarous 
nation.  Every  establishment  that  tends  to  the  cultivation 
of  the  pleasures  of  the  mind,  as  distinct  from  those  of 
sense,  may  be  considered  as  an  inferior  school  of  morality, 
where  the  mind  is  polished  and  prepared  for  higher  attain- 
ments. 

Let  us  for  a  moment  take  a  short  survey  of  the  pro- 
gress of  the  mind  towards  what  is,  or  ought  to  be,  its  true 
object  of  attention.  Man,  in  his  lowest  state,  has  no 
pleasures  but  those  of  sense,  and  no  wants  but  those  of 
appetite ;  afterwards,  when  society  is  divided  into  different 
ranks,  and  some  are  appointed  to  labor  for  the  support  of 
others,  those  whom  their  superiority  sets  free  from  labor 
begin  to  look  for  intellectual  entertainments.  Thus,  whilst 
the  •  shepherds  were  attending  their  flocks,  their  masters 
made  the  first  astronomical  observations )  so  music  is  said 
to  have  had  its  origin  from  a  man  at  leisure  listening  to 
the  strokes  of  a  hammer. 

As  the  senses,  in  the  lowest  state  of  nature,  are  neces- 
sary to  direct  us  to  our  support,  when  that  support  is  once 
secure  there  is  danger  in  following  them  further;  to  him 
who  has  no  rule  of  action  but  the  gratification  of  the 
senses,  plenty  is  always  dangerous :  it  is  therefore  neces- 
sary to  the  happiness  of  individuals,  and  still  more  neces- 
sary to  the  security  of  society,  that  the  mind  should  be 
elevated  to  the  idea  of  general  beauty,  and  the  contempla- 
tion of  general  truth :  by  this  pursuit  the  mind  is  always 
carried  forward  in  search  of  something  more  excellent  than 
it  finds,  and  obtains  its  proper  superiority  over  the  common 

15 


170 


THE  NINTH  DISCOURSE. 


senses  of  life,  "by  learning  to  feel  itself  capable  of  higher 
aims  and  nobler  enjoyments.  In  this  gradual  exaltation 
of  human  nature,  every  art  contributes  its  contingent  to- 
wards the  general  supply  of  mental  pleasure.  Whatever 
abstracts  the  thoughts  from  sensual  gratifications,  what- 
ever teaches  us  to  look  for  happiness  within  ourselves, 
must  advance  in  some  measure  the  dignity  of  our  nature. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  higher  proof  of  the  excellency  of 
man  than  this — that  to  a  mind  properly  cultivated  whatever 
is  bounded  is  little.  The  mind  is  continually  laboring  to 
advance,  step  by  step,  through  successive  gradations  of  ex- 
cellence, towards  perfection,  which  is  dimly  seen,  at  a 
great,  though  not  hopeless,  distance,  and  which  we  must 
always  follow,  because  we  never  can  attain ;  but  the  pur- 
suit rewards  itself;  one  truth  teaches  another,  and  our 
store  is  always  increasing,  though  nature  can  never  be  ex- 
hausted. Our  art,  like  all  arts  which  address  the  imagina- 
tion, is  applied  to  a  somewhat  lower  faculty  of  the  mind, 
which  approaches  nearer  to  sensuality :  but  through  sense 
and  fancy  it  must  make  its  way  to  reason ;  for  such  is  the 
progress  of  thought,  that  we  perceive  by  sense,  we  com- 
bine by  fancy,  and  distinguish  by  reason  :  and  without  car- 
rying our  art  out  of  its  natural  and  true  character,  the  moie 
we  purify  it  from  every  thing  that  is  gross  in  sense,  in  that 
proportion  we  advance  its  use  and  dignity ;  and  in  propor- 
tion as  we  lower  it  to  mere  sensuality,  we  pervert  its  na- 
ture, and  degrade  it  from  the  rank  of  a  liberal  art ;  and  this 
is  what  every  artist  ought  well  to  remember.  Let  him  re- 
member also,  that  he  deserves  just  so  much  encouragement 
in  the  state  as  he  makes  himself  a  member  of  it  virtuously 
useful,  and  contributes  in  his  sphere  to  the  general  purpose 
and  perfection  of  society. 


THE  NINTH  DISCOURSE. 


171 


The  Art  which  wc  profess  has  beauty  for  its  object; 
this  it  is  our  business  to  discover  and  to  express;  the 
beauty  of  which  we  are  in  quest  is  general  and  intellectual ; 
it  is  an  idea  that  subsists  only  in  the  mind;  the  sight 
never  beheld  it,  nor  has  the  hand  expressed  it ;  it  is  an 
idea  residing  in  the  breast  of  the  artist,  which  he  is  always 
laboring  to  impart,  and  which  he  dies  at  last  without  im- 
parting; but  which  he  is  yet  so  far  able  to  communicate  as 
to  raise  the  thoughts,  and  extend  the  views  of  the  specta- 
tor ;  and  which,  by  a  succession  of  art,  may  be  so  far  dif- 
fused that  its  effects  may  extend  themselves  imperceptibly 
into  public  benefits,  and  be  among  the  means  of  bestowing 
on  whole  nations  refinement  of  taste :  which,  if  it  does  not 
lead  directly  to  purity  of  manners,  obviates  at  least  their 
greatest  depravation,  by  disentangling  the  mind  from  appe- 
tite, and  conducting  the  thoughts  through  successive  stages 
of  excellence,  till  that  contemplation  of  universal  rectitude 
and  harmony  which  began  by  Taste,  may,  as  it  is  exalted 
and  refined,  conclude  in  Virtue. 


DISCOURSE  X. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  11,  1780. 

Sculpture : — has  but  one  style. — Its  objects,  form,  and  character.— Ineffectual  at- 
tempts of  the  modern  Sculptors  to  improve  the  art. — 111  effects  of  modern 
dress  in  Sculpture. 

GENTLEMEN, 

I  shall  now,  as  it  has  "been  customary  on  this  day, 
and  on  this  occasion,  communicate  to  you  such  observations 
as  have  occurred  to  me  on  the  Theory  of  Art. 

If  these  observations  have  hitherto  referred  principally 
to  Painting,  let  it  be  remembered  that  this  Art  is  much 
more  extensive  and  complicated  than  Sculpture,  and  affords 
therefore  a  more  ample  field  for  criticism;  and  as  the 
greater  includes  the  less,  the  leading  principles  of  Sculp- 
ture are  comprised  in  those  of  Painting. 

However,  I  wish  now  to  make  some  remarks  with  par- 
ticular relation  to  Sculpture;  to  consider  wherein,  or  in 
what  manner,  its  principles  and  those  of  Painting  agree  or 
differ ;  what  is  within  its  power  of  performing,  and  what 
it  is  vain  or  improper  to  attempt ;  that  it  may  be  clearly 
and  distinctly  known  what  ought  to  be  the  great  purpose 
of  the  Sculptor's  labors. 

Sculpture  is  an  art  of  much  more  simplicity  and  uni- 
formity than  Painting;  it  can  not,  with  propriety  and  the 
best  effect,  be  applied  to  many  subjects.  The  object  of  its 
pursuit  may  be  comprised  in  two  words,  Form  and  Charac- 
ter; and  those  qualities  are  presented  to  us  but  in  one 
manner,  or  in  one  style  only;  whereas  the  powers  of 


V 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


173 


Painting,  as  they  are  more  various  and  extensive,  so  they 
are  exhibited  in  as  great  a  variety  of  manners.  The  Ro- 
man, Lojnbard,  Florentine,  Venetian,  and  Flemish  Schools, 
all  pursue  the  same  end  by  different  means.  But  Sculp- 
ture having  but  one  style,  can  only  to  one  style  of  Paint- 
ing have  any  relation ;  and  to  this  (which  is  indeed  the 
highest  and  most  dignified  that  Painting  can  boast,)  it 
has  a  relation  so  close  that  it  may  be  said  to  be  almost 
the  same  art  operating  upon  different  materials.  The 
Sculptors  of  the  last  age,  from  not  attending  sufficient- 
ly to  this  discrimination  of  the  different  styles  of  Paint- 
ing, have  been  led  into  many  errors.  Though  they  well 
knew  that  they  were  allowed  to  imitate,  or  take  ideas  for 
the  improvement  of  their  own  Art  from  the  grand  style  of 
Painting,  they  were  not  aware  that  it  was  not  permitted  to 
borrow  in  the  same  manner  from  the  ornamental.  When 
they  endeavor  to  copy  the  picturesque  effects,  contrasts,  or 
petty  excellencies  of  whatever  kind,  which  not  improperly 
find  a  place  in  the  inferior  branches  of  Painting,  they 
doubtless  imagine  themselves  improving  and  extending  the 
boundaries  of  their  art  by  this  imitation ;  but  they  are  in 
reality  violating  its  essential  character,  by  giving  a  dif- 
ferent direction  to  its  operations,  and  proposing  to  them- 
selves either  what  is  unattainable,  or  at  best  a  meaner  ob- 
ject of  pursuit.  The  grave  and  austere  character  of 
Sculpture  requires  the  utmost  degree  of  formality  in  com- 
position ;  picturesque  contrasts  have  here  no  place ;  every 
thing  is  carefully  weighed  and  measured,  one  side  making 
almost  an  exact  equipoise  to  the  other :  a  child  is  not  a 
proper  balance  to  a  full  grown  figure,  nor  is  a  figure  sitting 
or  stooping  a  companion  to  an  upright  figure. 

The  excellence  of  every  art  must  consist  in  the  oom- 
15* 


174 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


plete  accomplishment  of  its  purpose ;  and  if,  by  a  false 
imitation  of  nature,  or  mean  ambition  of  producing  a  pic- 
turesque effect  or  illusion  of  any  kind,  all  the  grandeur 
of  ideas  which  this  art  endeavors  to  excite,  be  degraded 
or  destroyed,  we  may  boldly  oppose  ourselves  to  any  such 
innovation.  If  the  producing  of  a  deception  is  the  sum- 
mit of  this  art,  let  us  at  once  give  to  statues  the  addition 
of  color;  which  will  contribute  more  towards  accomplish- 
ing this  end,  than  all  those  artifices  which  have  been  intro- 
duced and  professedly  defended,  on  no  other  principle  but 
that  of  rendering  the  work  more  natural.  But  as  color  is 
universally  rejected,  every  practice  liable  to  the  same  ob- 
jection must  fall  with  it.  If  the  business  of  Sculpture 
were  to  administer  pleasure  to  ignorance,  or  a  mere  enter- 
tainment to  the  senses,  the  Venus  of  Medicis  might  cer- 
tainly receive  much  improvement  by  color;  but  the  char- 
acter of  Sculpture  makes  it  her  duty  to  afford  delight  of  a 
different,  and,  perhaps,  of  a  higher  kind ;  the  delight  re- 
sulting from  the  contemplation  of  perfect  beauty :  and 
this,  which  is  in  truth  an  intellectual  pleasure,  is  in  many 
respects  incompatible  with  what  is  merely  addressed  to  the 
senses,  such  as  that  with  which  ignorance  and  levity  con- 
template elegance  of  form. 

The  Sculptor  may  be  safely  allowed  to  practice  every 
means  within  the  power  of  his  art  to  produce  a  deception, 
provided  this  practice  does  not  interfere  with  or  destroy 
higher  excellencies ;  on  these  conditions  he  will  be  forced, 
however  loth,  to  acknowledge  that  the  boundaries  of  his 
art  have  long  been  fixed,  and  that  all  endeavors  will  be 
vain  that  hope  to  pass  beyond  the  best  works  which  remain 
of  ancient  Sculpture. 

Imitation  is  the  means,  and  not  the  end  of  art :  it  is 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


175 


employed  by  the  Sculptor  as  the  language  by  which  his 
ideas  are  presented  to  the  mind  of  the  spectator.  Poetry 
and  elocution  of  every  sort  make  use  of  signs,  but  those 
signs  are  arbitrary  and  conventional.  The  sculptor  em- 
ploys the  representation  of  the  thing  itself ;  but  still  as  a 
means  to  a  higher  end — as  a  gradual  ascent  always  ad- 
vancing towards  faultless  form  and  perfect  beauty.  It 
may  be  thought  at  the  first  view,  that  even  this  form,  how- 
ever perfectly  represented,  is  to  be  valued  and  take  its 
rank  only  for  the  sake  of  a  still  higher  object,  that  of  con- 
veying sentiment  and  character,  as  they  are  exhibited  by 
attitude,  and  expression  of  the  passions.  But  we  are  sure 
from  experience,  that  the  beauty  of  form  alone,  without 
the  assistance  of  any  other  quality,  makes  of  itself  a  great 
work,  and  justly  claims  our  esteem  and  admiration.  As  a 
proof  of  the  high  value  we  set  on  the  mere  excellence  of 
form,  we  may  produce  the  greatest  part  of  the  works  of 
Michael  Angelo,  both  in  painting  and  sculpture  as  well  as 
most  of  the  antique  statues,  which  are  justly  esteemed  in 
a  very  high  degree,  though  no  very  marked  or  striking 
character  or  expression  of  any  kind  is  represented. 

But,  as  a  stronger  instance  that  this  excellence  alone 
inspires  sentiment,  what  artist  ever  looked  at  the  Torso 
without  feeling  a  warmth  of  enthusiasm,  as  from  the  high- 
est efforts  of  poetry?  From  whence  does  this  proceed? 
What  is  there  in  this  fragment  that  produces  this  effect, 
but  the  perfection  of  this  science  of  abstract  form  ? 

A  mind  elevated  to  the  contemplation  of  excellence, 
perceives  in  this  defaced  and  shattered  fragment,  disjecta 
membra  poetee,  the  traces  of  superlative  genius,  the 
reliques  of  a  work  on  which  succeeding  ages  can  only  gaze 
with  inadequate  admiration. 


17G 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


It  may  be  said  that  this  pleasure  is  reserved  only  to 
those  who  have  spent  their  whole  life  in  the  study  and  con- 
templation of  this  art ;  but  the  truth  is,  that  all  would  feel 
its  effects,  if  they  could  divest  themselves  of  the  expectation 
of  deception,  and  look  only  for  what  it  really  is,  a  partial 
representation  of  nature.  The  only  impediment  of  their 
judgment  must  then  proceed  from  their  being  uncertain  to 
what  rank,  or  rather  kind  of  excellence,  it  aspires ;  and  to 
what  sort  of  approbation  it  has  a  right.  This  state  of  dark- 
ness is,  without  doubt,  irksome  to  every  mind;  but  by  at- 
tention to  works  of  this  kind  the  knowledge  of  what  is  aimed 
at  comes  of  itself,  without  being  taught,  and  almost  without 
being  perceived. 

The  Sculptor's  art  is  limited  in  comparison  of  others,  but 
it  has  its  variety  and  intricacy  within  its  proper  bounds. 
Its  essence  is  correctness :  and  when  to  correct  and  perfect 
form  is  added  the  ornament  of  grace,  dignity  of  character, 
and  appropriate  expression,  as  in  the  Apollo,  the  Venus, 
the  Laocoon,  the  Moses  of  Michael  Angelo,  and  many  others, 
this  art  may  be  said  to  have  accomplished  its  purpose. 

What  Grace  is,  how  it  is  to  be  acquired  or  conceived,  are 
in  speculation  difficult  questions ;  but  causa  latet,  res  est  no- 
tissima :  without  any  perplexing  inquiry,  the  effect  is  hourly 
perceived.  I  shall  only  observe,  that  its  natural  foundation 
is  correctness  of  design ;  and  though  grace  may  be  some- 
times united  with  incorrectness,  it  can  not  proceed  from  it. 

But  to  come  nearer  to  our  present  subject.  It  has  been 
said  that  the  grace  of  the  Apollo  depends  on  a  certain  degree 
of  incorrectness ;  that  the  head  is  not  anatomically  placed 
between  the  shoulders ;  and  that  the  lower  half  of  the  figure 
is  longer  than  just  proportion  allows. 

I  know  that  Correggio  and  Parmegiano  are  often  produced 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


177 


as  authorities  to  support  tliis  opinion ;  but  very  little  attention 
will  convince  us,  that  the  incorrectness  of  some  parts  which 
we  find  in  their  works,  does  not  contribute  to  grace,  but  rather 
tends  to  destroy  it.  The  Madonna,  with  the  sleeping  In- 
fant, and  beautiful  group  of  Angels,  by  Parmegiano,  in  the 
Palazzo  Piti,  would  not  have  lost  any  of  its  excellence,  if 
the  neck,  fingers,  and  indeed  the  whole  figure  of  the  Virgin, 
instead  of  being  so  very  long  and  incorrect,  had  preserved 
their  due  proportion. 

In  opposition  to  the  first  of  these  remarks,  I  have  the 
authority  of  a  very  able  Sculptor  of  this  Academy,  who  has 
copied  that  figure,  consequently  measured  and  carefully  ex- 
amined it,  to  declare,  that  the  criticism  is  not  true.  In  regard 
to  the  last,  it  must  be  remembered  that  Apollo  is  here  in  the 
exertion  of  one  of  his  peculiar  powers,  which  is  swiftness ;  he 
has  therefore  that  proportion  which  is  best  adapted  to  that 
character.  This  is  no  more  incorrectness,  than  when  there  is 
given  to  an  Hercules  an  extraordinary  swelling  and  strength 
of  muscles. 

The  art  of  discovering  and  expressing  grace  is  difficult 
enough  of  itself,  without  perplexing  ourselves  with  what  is  in- 
comprehensible. A  supposition  of  such  a  monster  as  Grace, 
begot  by  Deformity,  is  poison  to  the  mind  of  a  young 
Artist,  and  may  make  him  neglect  what  is  essential  to  his 
art,  correctness  of  Design,  in  order  to  pursue  a  phantom, 
which  has  no  existence  but  in  the  imagination  of  affected 
and  refined  speculators. 

I  can  not  quit  the  Apollo,  without  making  one  observa- 
tion on  the  character  of  this  figure.  He  is  supposed  to  have 
just  discharged  his  arrow  at  the  Python ;  and,  by  the  head 
retreating  a  little  toward  the  right  shoulder,  he  appears  at- 
tentive to  its  effect.    What  I  would  remark  is  the  difference 


178 


THE  TEN^TH  DISCOURSE. 


of  this  attention  from  that  of  the  Discobolus,  who  is  engaged 
in  the  same  purpose,  watching  the  effect  of  his  Discus. 
The  graceful,  negligent,  though  animated,  air  of  the  one, 
and  the  vulgar  eagerness  of  the  other,  furnish  a  signal 
instance  of  the  judgment  of  ancient  sculptors  in  their  nice 
discrimination  of  character.  They  are  both  equally  true 
to  nature  and  equally  admirable. 

It  may  be  remarked,  that  Grace,  Character,  and  Ex- 
pression, though  words  of  different  sense  and  meaning,  and 
so  understood  when  applied  to  the  works  of  Painters,  are 
indiscriminately  used  when  we  speak  of  Sculpture.  This 
indecision  we  may  suspect  to  proceed  from  the  undetermined 
effects  of  the  Art  itself ;  those  qualities  are  exhibited  in 
Sculpture  rather  by  form  and  attitude,  than  by  the  features, 
and  can  therefore  be  expressed  but  in  a  very  general  man- 
ner. 

Though  the  Laocoon  and  his  two  sons  have  more  ex- 
pression in  the  countenance  than  perhaps  any  other  antique 
statues,  yet  it  is  only  the  general  expression  of  pain ;  and 
this  passion  is  still  more  strongly  expressed  by  the  writhing 
and  contortion  of  the  body  than  by  the  features. 

It  has  been  observed  in  a  late  publication,  that  if  the 
attention  of  the  Father  in  this  group  had  been  occupied 
more  by  the  distress  of  his  children,  than  by  his  own  suffer- 
ings, it  would  have  raised  a  much  greater  interest  in  the 
spectator.  Though  this  observation  comes  from  a  person 
whose  opinion,  in  every  thing  relating  to  the  Arts,  carries 
with  it  the  highest  authority,  yet  I  can  not  but  suspect  that 
such  refined  expression  is  scarce  within  the  province  of  this 
Art ;  and  in  attempting  it,  the  Artist  will  run  great  risk  of 
enfeebling  expression,  and  making  it  less  intelligible  to  the 
spectator. 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


179 


As  the  general  figure  presents  itself  in  a  more  conspicu- 
ous manner  than  the  features,  it  is  there  we  must  princi- 
pally look  for  expression  or  character;  patwU  in  corpore 
vultus;  and,  in  this  respect,  the  Sculptor's  art  is  not  unlike 
that  of  dancing,  where  the  attention  of  the  spectator  is  prin- 
cipally engaged  by  the  attitude  and  action  of  the  performer, 
and  it  is  there  he  must  look  for  whatever  expression  that  art 
is  capable  of  exhibiting.  The  dancers  themselves  acknowledge 
this,  by  often  wearing  masks,  with  little  diminution  in  the  ex- 
pression. The  face  bears  so  very  inconsiderable  a  proportion 
to  the  effect  of  the  whole  figure,  that  the  ancient  Sculptors 
neglected  to  animate  the  features,  even  with  the  general 
expression  of  the  passions.  Of  this  the  group  of  the  Box- 
ers is  a  remarkable  instance ;  they  are  engaged  in  the  most 
animated  action  with  the  greatest  serenity  of  countenance. 
This  is  not  recommended  for  imitation  (for  there  can  be  no 
reason  why  the  countenance  should  not  correspond  with  the 
attitude  and  expression  of  the  figure,)  but  is  mentioned  in 
order  to  infer  from  hence,  that  this  frequent  deficiency  in 
ancient  Sculpture  could  proceed  from  nothing  but  a  habit 
of  inattention  to  what  was  considered  as  comparatively  im- 
material. 

Those  who  think  Sculpture  can  express  more  than  we 
have  allowed,  may  ask,  by  what  means  we  discover,  at  the 
first  glance,  the  character  that  is  represented  in  a  Bust, 
Cameo,  or  Intaglio  ?  I  suspect  it  will  be  found,  on  close 
examination,  by  him  who  is  resolved  not  to  see  more  than 
he  really  does  see,  that  the  figures  are  distinguished  by  their 
insignia  more  than  by  any  variety  of  form  or  beauty.  Take 
from  Apollo  his  Lyre,  from  Bacchus  his  Thirsus  and  Vine- 
leaves,  and  Meleager  the  Boar's  Head,  and  there  will  re- 
main little  or  no  difference  in  their  characters.    In  a  Juno, 


180 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


Minerva,  or  Flora,  the  idea  of  the  artist  seems  to  have  gone 
no  further  than  representing  perfect  beauty,  and  afterwards 
adding  the  proper  attributes,  with  a  total  indifference  to 
which  they  gave  them.  Thus  John  de  Bologna,  after  he 
had  finished  a  group  of  a  young  man  holding  up  a  young 
woman  in  his  arms,  with  an  old  man  at  his  feet,  called  his 
friends  together,  to  tell  him  what  name  he  should  give  it, 
and  it  was  agreed  to  call  it  The  Rape  of  the  Sabines* ;  and 
this  is  the  celebrated  group  which  now  stands  before  the 
old  Palace  at  Florence.  The  figures  have  the  same  gen- 
eral expression  which  is  to  be  found  in  most  of  the  antique 
Sculpture ;  and  yet  it  would  be  no  wonder  if  future  critics 
should  find  out  delicacy  of  expression  which  was  never  in- 
tended; and  go  so  far  as  to  see  in  the  old  man's  counte- 
nance the  exact  relation  which  he  bore  to  the  woman  who 
appears  to  be  taken  from  him. 

Though  Painting  and  Sculpture  are,  like  many  other 
arts,  governed  by  the  same  general  principles,  yet  in  the 
detail,  or  what  may  be  called  the  by-laws  of  each  art, 
there  seems  to  be  no  longer  any  connection  between  them. 
The  different  materials  upon  which  those  two  arts  exert 
their  powers,  must  infallibly  create  a  proportional  difference 
in  their  practice.  There  are  many  petty  excellencies 
which  the  Painter  attains  with  ease,  but  which  are  imprac- 
ticable in  Sculpture;  and  which,  even  if  it  could  accom- 
plish them,  would  add  nothing  to  the  true  value  and 
dignity  of  the  work. 

Of  the  ineffectual  attempts  which  the  modern  Sculp- 
tors have  made  by  way  of  improvement,  these  seem  to  be 
the  principal : 


*  See  "II  Reposo  di  Raffaelle  Borghini." 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


181 


The  practice  of  detaching  drapery  from  the  figure,  in 
order  to  give  the  appearance  of  flying  in  the  air ; 

Of  making  different  plans  in  the  same  bas-relievos ; 
Of  attempting  to  represent  the  effects  of  perspective : 
To  these  we  may  add  the  ill  effect  of  figures  clothed  in 
a  modern  dress. 

The  folly  of  attempting  to  make  stone  sport  and  flutter 
in  the  air,  is  so  apparent,  that  it  carries  with  it  its  own 
reprehension ;  and  yet  to  accomplish  this,  seemed  to  be  the 
great  ambition  of  many  modern  Sculptors,  particularly 
Bernini :  his  art  was  so  much  set  on  overcoming  this  diffi- 
culty, that  he  was  for  ever  attempting  it,  though  by  that 
attempt  he  risked  every  thing  that  was  valuable  in  the  art. 

Bernini  stands  in  the  first  class  of  modern  Sculptors, 
and  therefore  it  is  the  business  of  criticism  to  prevent  the 
ill  effects  of  so  powerful  an  example. 

From  his  very  early  work  of  Apollo  and  Daphne,  the 
world  justly  expected  he  would  rival  the  best  productions 
of  ancient  Greece;  but  he  soon  strayed  from  the  right 
path.  And  though  there  is  in  his  works  something  which 
always  distinguishes  him  from  the  common  herd,  yet  he 
appears  in  his  latter  performances  to  have  lost  his  way. 
Instead  of  pursuing  the  study  of  that  ideal  beauty  with 
which  he  had  so  successfully  begun,  he  turned  his  mind  to 
an  injudicious  quest  of  novelty,  attempted  what  was  not 
within  the  province  of  the  art,  and  endeavored  to  overcome 
the  hardness  and  obstinacy  of  his  materials ;  which  even 
supposing  he  had  accomplished,  so  far  as  to  make  this 
species  of  drapery  appear  natural,  the  ill  effect  and  con- 
fusion occasioned  by  its  being  detached  from  the  figure  to 
which  it  belongs,  ought  to  have  been  alone  a  sufficient 
reason  to  have  deterred  him  from  that  nractice. 

16 


182 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


We  have  not,  I  think,  in  our  Academy,  any  of  Ber- 
nini's works,  except  a  cast  of  the  head  of  his  Neptune  :* 
this  will  be  sufficient  to  serve  us  for  an  example  of  the 
mischief  produced  by  this  attempt  of  representing  the 
effects  of  the  wind.  The  locks  of  the  hair  are  flying  abroad 
in  all  directions,  insomuch  that  it  is  not  a  superficial  view 
that  can  discover  what  the  object  is  which  is  represented, 
or  distinguish  those  flying  locks  from  the  features,  as 
they  are  all  of  the  same  color,  of  equal  solidity,  and  conf 
sequently  project  with  equal  force. 

The  same  entangled  confusion  which  is  here  occasioned 
by  the  hair,  is  produced  by  drapery  flying  off ;  which  the 
eye  must,  for  the  same  reason,  inevitably  mingle  and  con- 
found with  the  principal  parts  of  the  figure. 

It  is  a  general  rule,  equally  true  in  both  Arts,  that  the 
form  and  attitude  of  the  figure  should  be  seen  clearly,  and 
without  any  ambiguity,  at  the  first  glance  of  the  eye.  This 
the  Painter  can  easily  do  by  color,  by  losing  parts  in  the 
ground,  or  keeping  them  so  obscure  as  to  prevent  them 
from  interfering  with  the  more  principal  objects.  The 
sculptor  has  no  other  means  of  preventing  this  confusion 
than  by  attaching  the  drapery  for  the  greater  part  close  to 
the  figure ;  the  folds  of  which,  following  the  order  of  the 
limbs,  whenever  the  drapery  is  seen,  the  eye  is  led  to  trace 
the  form  and  attitude  of  the  figure  at  the  same  time. 

The  drapery  of  the  Apollo,  though  it  makes  a  large 
mass,  and  is  separated  from  the  figure,  does  not  affect  the 
present  question,  from  the  very  circumstance  of  its  being 
so  completely  separated ;  and  from  the  regularity  and  sim- 

*  Some  years  after  this  Discourse  was  written,  Bernini's  Nep- 
tune was  purchased  for  our  author  at  Rome,  and  brought  to  Eng- 
land. After  his  death  it  was  sold  by  his  executors  for  £500  to 
Charles  Anderson  Pelham,  Esq.,  now  Lord  Yarborough. 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


183 


plicity  of  its  form,  it  docs  not  in  the  least  interfere  with  a 
distinct  view  of  the  figure.  In  reality,  it  is  no  more  a  part 
of  it  than  a  pedestal,  a  trunk  of  a  tree,  or  an  animal,  which 
we  often  sec  joined  to  statues. 

The  principal  use  of  those  appendages  is  to  strengthen 
and  preserve  the  statue  from  accidents;  and  many  are 
of  opinion,  that  the  mantle  which  falls  from  the  Apollo's 
arm  is  for  the  same  end ;  but  surely  it  answers  a  much 
greater  purpose,  by  preventing  that  dryness  of  effect  which 
would  inevitably  attend  a  naked  arm,  extended  almost  at 
full  length,  to  which  wc  may  add,  the  disagreeable  effect 
which  would  proceed  from  the  body  and  arm  making  a 
right  angle. 

The  Apostles,  in  the  church  of  St.  John  Latcran,  ap- 
pear to  me  to  fall  under  the  censure  of  an  injudicious  im- 
itation of  the  manner  of  the  painters.  The  drapery  of 
those  figures,  from  being  disposed  in  large  masses,  gives 
undoubtedly  that  air  of  grandeur  which  magnitude  or 
quantity  is  sure  to  produce.  But  though  it  should  be  ac- 
knowledged, that  it  is  managed  with  great  skill  and  intelli- 
gence, and  contrived  to  appear  as  light  as  the  materials 
will  allow,  yet  the  weight  and  solidity  of  stone  was  not  to 
be  overcome. 

Those  figures  are  much  in  the  style  of  Carlo  Maratti, 
and  such  as  we  may  imagine  he  would  have  made,  if  he 
had  attempted  Sculpture ;  and  when  we  know  he  had  the 
superintendance  of  that  work,  and  was  an  intimate  friend 
of  one  of  the  principal  Sculptors,  we  may  suspect  that  his 
taste  had  some  influence,  if  he  did  not  even  give  the  de- 
signs. No  man  can  look  at  those  figures  without  recogni- 
sing the  manner  of  Carlo  Maratti.  They  have  the  same 
defect  which  his  works  so  often  have,  of  being  overlaid 


184 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


with  drapery,  and  that  too  artificially  disposed.  I  can  not 
but  believe,  that  if  Ruscono,  Le  Gros,  Monot,  and  the  rest 
of  the  Sculptors  employed  in  that  work,  had  taken  for  their 
guide  the  simple  dress,  such  as  we  see  in  the  antique 
statues  of  the  philosophers,  it  would  have  given  more  real 
grandeur  to  their  figures,  and  would  certainly  have  been 
more  suitable  to  the  characters  of  the  Apostles. 

Though  there  is  no  remedy  for  the  ill  effect  of  those 
solid  projections  which  flying  drapery  in  stone  must  always 
produce  in  statues,  yet  in  bas-relievos  it  is  totally  different ; 
those  detached  parts  of  drapery  the  Sculptor  has  here  as 
much  power  over  as  the  Painter,  by  uniting  and  losing  it 
in  the  ground,  so  that  it  shall  not  in  the  least  entangle  and 
confuse  the  figure. 

But  here  again  the  Sculptor,  not  content  with  this  suc- 
cessful imitation,  if  it  may  be  so  called,  proceeds  to  repre- 
sent figures  or  groups  of  figures  on  different  plans;  that  is, 
some  on  the  foreground,  and  some  at  a  greater  distance,  in 
the  manner  of  Painters  in  historical  compositions.  To  do 
this  he  has  no  other  means  than  by  making  the  distant 
figures  of  less  dimensions,  and  relieving  them  in  a  less 
degree  from  the  surface ;  but  this  is  not  adequate  to  the 
end ;  they  will  still  appear  only  as  figures  on  a  less  scale, 
but  equally  near  the  eye  with  those  in  the  front  of  the 
piece. 

Nor  does  the  mischief  of  this  attempt,  which  never 
accomplishes  its  intention,  rest  here :  by  this  division  of 
the  work  into  many  minute  parts,  the  grandeur  of  its 
general  effect  is  inevitably  destroyed. 

Perhaps  the  only  circumstance  in  which  the  Modern 
have  excelled  the  Ancient  Sculptors,  is  the  management 
of  a  single  group  in  basso-relievo;  the  art  of  gradually 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


185 


raising  the  group  from  the  flat  surface,  till  it  imperceptibly 
emerges  in  alto-relievo.  Of  this  there  is  no  ancient  exam- 
ple remaining  that  discovers  any  approach  to  the  skill 
which  Le  Gros  has  shown  in  an  altar  in  the  Jesuits' 
Church  at  Rsme.  Different  plans  or  degrees  of  relief  in 
the  same  group  have,  as  we  see  in  this  instance,  a  good 
effect,  though  the  contrary  happens  when  the  groups  are 
separated,  and  are  at  some  distance  behind  each  other. 

This  improvement  in  the  art  of  composing  a  group  in 
basso-relievo  was  probably  first  suggested  by  the  practice 
of  the  modern  Painters,  who  relieve  their  figures,  or  groups 
of  figures,  from  their  ground,  by  the  same  gentle  grada- 
tion ;  and  it  is  accomplished  in  every  respect  by  the  same 
general  principles ;  but  as  the  marble  has  no  color,  it  is  the 
composition  itself  that  must  give  its  light  and  shadow. 
The  ancient  Sculptors  could  not  borrow  this  advantage 
from  their  Painters,  for  this  was  an  art  with  which  they 
appear  to  have  been  entirely  unacquainted :  and  in  the 
bas-relievos  of  Lorenzo  Ghibcrti,  the  casts  of  which  we 
have  in  the  Academy,  this  art  is  no  more  attempted  than 
it  was  by  the  Painters  of  his  age. 

The  next  imaginary  improvement  of  the  moderns,  is 
the  representing  the  effects  of  Perspective  in  bas-relief. 
Of  this,  little  need  be  said ;  all  must  recollect  how  ineffec- 
tual has  been  the  attempt  of  modern  Sculptors  to  turn  the 
buildings  which  they  have  introduced  as  seen  from  their 
angle,  with  a  view  to  make  them  appear  to  recede  from  the 
eye  in  perspective.  This,  though  it  may  show  indeed  their 
eager  desire  to  encounter  difficulties,  shows  at  the  same 
time  how  inadequate  their  materials  arc  even  to  this  their 
humble  ambition. 

The  Ancients,  with  great  judgment,  represented  only 
1G* 


186 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


the  elevation  of  whatever  architecture  they  introduced 
into  their  bas-reliefs,  which  is  composed  of  little  more  than 
horizontal  or  perpendicular  lines;  whereas  the  interrup- 
tion of  crossed  lines,  or  whatever  causes  a  multiplicity  of 
subordinate  parts,  destroys  that  regularity  and  firmness  of 
effect  on  which  grandeur  of  style  so  much  depends. 

We  come  now  to  the  last  consideration ;  in  what  man- 
ner Statues  are  to  be  dressed,  which  are  made  in  honor  of 
men  either  now  living  or  lately  departed, 

This  is  a  question  which  might  employ  a  long  discourse 
of  itself;  I  shall  at  present  only  observe,  that  he  who 
wishes  not  to  obstruct  the  Artist,  and  prevent  his  exhibit- 
ing his  abilities  to  their  greatest  advantage,  will  certainly 
not  desire  a  modern  dress. 

The  desire  of  transmitting  to  posterity  the  shape  of 
modern  dress  must  be  acknowledged  to  be  purchased  at  a 
prodigious  price,  even  the  price  of  every  thing  that  is  valu- 
able in  art. 

Working  in  stone  is  a  very  serious  business;  and  it 
seems  to  be  scarce  worth  while  to  employ  such  durable 
materials  in  conveying  to  posterity  a  fashion  of  which  the 
longest  existence  scarce  exceeds  a  year. 

However  agreeable  it  may  be  to  the  Antiquary's  prin- 
ciples of  equity  and  gratitude,  that  as  he  has  received  great 
pleasure  from  the  contemplation  of  the  fashions  of  dress 
of  former  ages,  he  wishes  to  give  the  same  satisfaction  to 
future  Antiquaries ;  yet,  methinks,  pictures  of  an  inferior 
style,  or  prints,  may  be  considered  as  quite  sufficient, 
without  prostituting  this  great  art  to  such  mean  pur- 
poses. 

In  this  town  may  be  seen  an  Equestrian  Statue  in  a 
modern  dress,  which  may  be  sufficient  to  deter  future 


THE  TENTH  DISCOURSE. 


187 


artists  from  any  such  attempt :  even  supposing  no  other 
objection,  the  familiarity  of  the  modern  dress  by  no  means 
agrees  with  the  dignity  and  gravity  of  Sculpture. 

Sculpture  is  formal,  regular,  and  austere ;  disdains  all 
familiar  objects,  as  incompatible  with  its  dignity;  and  is 
an  enemy  to  every  species  of  affectation,  or  appearance  of 
academical  art.  All  contrast,  therefore,  of  one  figure  to 
another,  or  of  the  limbs  of  a  single  figure,  or  even  in  the 
folds  of  the  drapery,  must  be  sparingly  employed.  In 
short,  whatever  partakes  of  fancy  or  caprice,  or  goes  under 
the  denomination  of  Picturesque,  (however  to  be  admired 
in  its  proper  place,)  is  incompatible  with  that  sobriety  and 
gravity  which  is  peculiarly  the  characteristic  of  this  art. 

There  is  no  circumstance  which  more  distinguishes  a 
well-regulated  and  sound  taste,  than  a  settled  uniformity 
of  design,  where  all  the  parts  are  compact,  and  fitted  to 
each  other,  every  thing  being  of  a  piece.  This  principle 
extends  itself  to  all  habits  of  life,  as  well  as  to  all  works  of 
art.  Upon  this  general  ground,  therefore,  we  may  safely 
venture  to  pronounce,  that  the  uniformity  and  simplicity 
of  the  materials  on  which  the  Sculptor  labors,  (which  are 
only  white  marble,)  prescribes  bounds  to  his  art,  and 
teaches  him  to  confine  himself  to  a  proportionable  sim- 
plicity of  design. 


DISCOURSE  XI. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  10,  1782. 

Genius. — Consists  principally  in  the  comprehension  of  a  whole ;  in  taking  general 
ideas  only. 

GENTLEMEN, 

The  highest  ambition  of  every  Artist  is  to  he  thought 
a  man  of  Genius.  As  long  as  this  nattering  quality  is 
joined  to  his  name,  he  can  bear  with  patience  the  imputa- 
tion of  carelessness,  incorrectness,  or  defects  of  whatever 
kind. 

So  far,  indeed,  is  the  presence  of  Genius  from  implying 
an  absence  of  faults,  that  they  are  considered  by  many  as 
its  inseparable  companions.  Some  go  such  lengths  as  to 
take  indication  from  them,  and  not  only  excuse  faults  on 
account  of  Genius,  but  presume  Genius  from  the  existence 
of  certain  faults. 

It  is  certainly  true,  that  a  work  may  justly  claim  the 
character  of  Genius,  though  full  of  errors  ;  and  it  is  equally 
true,  that  it  may  be  faultless,  and  yet  not  exhibit  the  least 
spark  of  Genius.  This  naturally  suggests  an  inquiry,  a 
desire  at  least  of  inquiring,  what  qualities  of  a  work  and  of 
a  workman  may  justly  entitle  a  Painter  to  that  character. 

I  have  in  a  former  discourse*  endeavored  to  impress 
you  with  a  fixed  opinion,  that  a  comprehensive  and  critical 
knowledge  of  the  works  of  nature  is  the  only  source  of 
beauty  and  grandeur.    But  when  we  speak  to  Painters,  we 

*  Discourse  III. 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


189 


must  always  consider  this  rule,  and  all  rules,  with  a  refer- 
ence to  the  mechanical  practice  of  their  own  particular  Art. 
It  is  not  properly  in  the  learning,  the  taste,  and  the  dignity 
of  the  ideas,  that  Genius  appears  as  belonging  to  a  Painter. 
There  is  a  Genius  particular  and  appropriated  to  his  own 
trade,  (as  I  may  call  it,)  distinguished  from  all  others. 
For  that  power,  which  enables  the  Artist  to  conceive  his 
subject  with  dignity,  may  be  said  to  belong  to  general  edu- 
cation :  and  is  as  much  the  Genius  of  a  Poet,  or  the  profes- 
sor of  any  other  liberal  Art,  or  even  a  good  critic  in  any  of 
those  arts,  as  of  a  Painter.  Whatever  sublime  ideas  may 
fill  his  mind,  he  is  a  Painter,  only  as  he  can  put  in  prac- 
tice what  he  knows,  and  communicate  those  ideas  by  visible 
representation. 

If  my  expression  can  convey  my  idea,  I  wish  to  distin- 
guish excellence  of  this  kind  by  calling  it  the  Genius  of 
mechanical  performance.  This  Genius  consists,  I  conceive 
in  the  power  of  expressing  that  which  employs  your  pencil, 
whatever  it  may  be,  as  a  whole  ;  so  that  the  general  elfect 
and  power  of  the  whole  may  take  possession  of  the  mind, 
and  for  a  while  suspend  the  consideration  of  the  subordinate 
and  particular  beauties  or  defects. 

The  advantage  of  this  method  of  considering  objects,  is 
what  I  wish  now  more  particularly  to  enforce.  At  the  same 
time  I  do  not  forget,  that  a  Painter  must  have  the  power 
of  contracting  as  well  as  dilating  his  sight;  because,  he 
that  does  not  at  all  express  particulars,  expresses  nothing  • 
yet  it  is  certain,  that  a  nice  discrimination  of  minute  cir- 
cumstances, and  a  punctilious  delineation  of  them,  whatever 
excellence  it  may  have,  (and  I  do  not  mean  to  detract  from 
it,)  never  did  confer  on  the  Artist  the  character  of  Genius. 

Beside  those  minute  differences  in  things  which  are  fre- 


190 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


quently  not  observed  at  all,  and  when  they  are,  make  little 
impression,  there  are  in  all  considerable  objects  great  char- 
acteristic distinctions,  which  press  strongly  on  the  senses, 
and  therefore  fix  the  imagination.  These  are  by  no  means, 
as  some  persons  think,  an  aggregate  of  all  the  small  dis- 
criminating particulars :  nor  will  such  an  accumulation  of 
particulars  ever  express  them.  These  answer  to  what  I 
have  heard  great  lawyers  call  the  leading  points  in  a  case,  or 
the  leading  cases  relative  to  those  points. 

The  detail  of  particulars,  which  does  not  assist  the  ex- 
pression of  the  main  characteristic,  is  worse  than  useless,  it 
is  mischievous,  as  it  dissipates  the  attention,  and  draws  it 
from  the  principal  point.  It  may  be  remarked,  that  the 
impression  which  is  left  on  our  mind  even  of  things  which 
are  familiar  to  us,  is  seldom  more  than  their  general  effect ; 
beyond  which  we  do  not  look  in  recognising  such  objects. 
To  express  this  in  Painting,  is  to  express  what  is  conge- 
nial and  natural  to  the  mind  of  man,  and  what  gives  him 
by  reflection  his  own  mode  of  conceiving.  The  other  pre- 
supposes nicety  and  research,  which  are  only  the  business 
of  the  curious  and  attentive,  and  therefore  does  not  speak  to 
the  general  sense  of  the  whole  species ;  in  which  common, 
and,  as  I  may  so  call  it,  mother  tongue,  every  thing  grand 
and  comprehensive  must  be  uttered. 

I  do  not  mean  to  prescribe  what  degree  of  attention 
ought  to  be  paid  to  the  minute  parts ;  this  it  is  hard  to  set- 
tle. We  are  sure  that  it  is  expressing  the  general  effect  of 
the  whole,  which  alone  can  give  to  objects  their  true  and 
touching  character ;  and  wherever  this  is  observed,  whatever 
else  may  be  neglected,  we  acknowledge  the  hand  of  a 
Master.  We  may  even  go  further,  and  observe,  that  when 
the  general  effect  only  is  presented  to  us  by  a  skilful  hand, 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


191 


it  appears  to  express  the  object  represented  in  a  more  lively 
manner  than  the  minutest  resemblance  would  do. 

These  observations  may  lead  to  very  deep  questions, 
which  I  do  not  mean  here  to  discuss ;  among  others,  it  may 
lead  to  an  inquiry.  Why  we  arc  not  always  pleased  with 
the  most  absolute  possible  resemblance  of  an  imitation  to 
its  original  object?  Cases  may  exist  in  which  such  a  re- 
semblance may  be  even  disagreeable.  I  shall  only  observe 
that  the  effect  of  figures  in  wax-work,  though  certainly  a 
more  exact  representation  than  can  be  given  by  Painting  or 
Sculpture,  is  a  sufficient  proof  that  the  pleasure  we  receive 
from  imitation  is  not  increased  merely  in  proportion  as  it 
approaches  to  minute  and  detailed  reality ;  we  are  pleased, 
on  the  contrary  by  seeing  ends  accomplished  by  seemingly 
inadequate  means. 

To  express  protuberance  by  actual  relief — to  express 
the  softness  of  flesh  by  the  softness  of  wax,  seems  rude  and 
inartificial,  and  creates  no  grateful  surprise.  13ut  to  express 
distance  on  a  plain  surface,  softness  by  hard  bodies,  and 
particular  coloring  by  materials  which  are  not  singly  of  that 
color,  produces  that  magic  which  is  the  prize  and  triumph 
of  art. 

Carry  this  principle  a  step  further.  Suppose  the  effect 
of  imitation  to  be  fully  compassed  by  means  still  more  in- 
adequate ;  let  the  power  of  a  few  well-chosen  strokes,  which 
supersede  labor  by  judgment  and  direction,  produce  a  com- 
plete impression  of  all  that  the  mind  demands  in  an  object; 
we  are  charmed  with  such  an  unexpected  happiness  of  exe- 
cution, and  begin  to  be  tired  with  the  superfluous  diligence, 
which  in  vain  solicits  an  appetite  already  satiated. 

The  properties  of  all  objects,  as  far  as  a  Painter  is  con- 
cerned with  them,  are,  the  outline  or  drawing,  the  color, 


192 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


and  the  light  and  shade.  The  drawing  gives  the  form,  the 
color  its  visible  quality,  and  the  light  and  shade  its  solidity. 

Excellence  in  any  one  of  these  parts  of  .art  will  never 
be  acquired  by  an  artist,  unless  he  has  the  habit  of  looking 
upon  objects  at  large,  and  observing  the  effect  which  they 
have  on  the  eye  when  it  is  dilated,  and  employed  upon  the 
whole,  without  seeing  any  one  of  the  parts  distinctly.  It 
is  by  this  that  we  obtain  the  ruling  characteristic,  and  that 
we  learn  to  imitate  it  by  short  and  dexterous  methods.  I 
do  not  mean  by  dexterity  a  trick  or  mechanical  habit,  formed 
by  guess,  and  established  by  custom;  but  that  science, 
which,  by  a  profound  knowledge  of  ends  and  means,  disco- 
vers the  shortest  and  surest  way  to  its  own  purpose. 

If  we  examine  with  a  critical  view  the  manner  of  those 
painters  whom  we  consider  as  patterns,  we  shall  find  that 
their  great  fame  does  not  proceed  from  their  works  being 
more  highly  finished  than  those  of  other  artists,  or  from  a 
more  minute  attention  to  details,  but  from  that  enlarged 
comprehension  which  sees  the  whole  object  at  once,  and 
that  energy  of  art  which  gives  its  characteristic  effect  by 
adequate  expression. 

Kaffaelle  and  Titian  are  two  names  which  stand  the 
highest  in  our  art )  one  for  Drawing,  the  other  for  Painting. 
The  most  considerable  and  the  most  esteemed  works  of 
Raffaelle  are  the  Cartoons,  and  his  Fresco  works  in  the 
Vatican ;  those,  as  we  all  know,  are  far  from  being  minutely 
finished  :  his  principal  care  and  attention  seems  to  have 
been  fixed  upon  the  adjustment  of  the  whole,  whether  it 
was  the  general  composition,  or  the  composition  of  each  in- 
dividual figure ;  for  every  figure  may  be  said  to  be  a  lesser 
whole,  though  in  regard  to  the  general  work  to  which  it 
belongs,  it  is  but  a  part ;  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  head, 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


193 


of  the  hands,  and  feet.  Though  he  possessed  this  art  of 
seeing  and  comprehending  the  whole,  as  far  as  form  is  con- 
cerned, he  did  not  exert  the  same  faculty  in  regard  to  the 
general  effect,  which  is  presented  to  the  eye  by  color,  and 
light  and  shade.  Of  this  the  deficiency  of  his  oil  pictures, 
where  this  excellence  is  more  expected  than  in  Fresco,  is  a 
sufficient  proof. 

It  is  to  Titian  we  must  turn  our  eyes  to  find  excellence 
with  regard  to  color,  and  light  and  shade,  in  the  highest  de- 
gree. He  was  both  the  first  and  the  greatest  master  of  this 
art.  By  a  few  strokes  he  knew  how  to  mark  the  general  im- 
age and  character  of  whatever  object  he  attempted;  and  pro- 
duced, by  this  alone,  a  truer  representation  than  his  master 
Giovanni  Bellino,  or  any  of  his  predecessors,  who  finished 
every  hair.  His  great  care  was  to  express  the  general  color, 
to  preserve  the  masses  of  light  and  shade,  and  to  give  by  op- 
position the  idea  of  that  solidity  which  is  inseparable  from 
natural  objects.  When  those  arc  preserved,  though  the 
work  should  possess  no  other  merit,  it  will  have  in  a  proper 
place  its  complete  effect ;  but  where  any  of  these  are  want- 
ing, however  minutely  labored  the  picture  may  be  in  the 
detail,  the  whole  will  have  a  false  and  even  an  unfinished 
appearance,  at  whatever  distance,  or  in  whatever  light,  it 
can  be  shown. 

It  is  in  vain  to  attend  to  the  variation  of  tints,  if,  in 
that  attention,  the  general  hue  of  flesh  is  lost ;  or  to  finish 
ever  so  minutely  the  parts,  if  the  masses  are  not  observed, 
or  the  whole  not  well  put  together. 

Yasari  seems  to  have  had  no  great  disposition  to  favor 
the  Venetian  Painters,  yet  he  every  where  justly  commends 
it  modo  di  fare,  la  maniera,  la  bella practka  ;  that  is,  the 
admirable  manner  and  practice  of  that  school.  On  Titian, 
17 


194 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


in  particular,  he  bestows  the  epithets  of  giudicioso,  hello,  e 
stupendo. 

This  manner  was  then  new  to  the  world,  but  that  un- 
shaken truth  on  which  it  is  founded,  has  fixed  it  as  a  model 
to  all  succeeding  Painters ;  and  those  who  will  examine  into 
the  artifice,  will  find  it  to  consist  in  the  power  of  generali- 
sing, and  in  the  shortness  and  simplicity  of  the  means 
employed. 

Many  artists,  as  Vasari  likewise  observes,  have  igno- 
rantly  imagined  they  are  imitating  the  manner  of  Titian 
when  they  leave  their  colors  rough,  and  neglect  the  detail ; 
but,  not  possessing  the  principles  on  which  he  wrought, 
they  have  produced  what  he  calls  goffe  pitture,  absurd 
foolish  pictures ;  for  such  will  always  be  the  consequence 
of  affecting  dexterity  without  science,  without  selection,  and 
without  fixed  principles. 

Raffaelle  and  Titian  seem  to  have  looked  at  nature  for 
different  purposes ;  they  both  had  the  power  of  extending 
their  view  to  the  whole ;  but  one  looked  only  for  the  gener- 
al effect  as  produced  by  form,  the  other  as  produced  by 
color. 

We  can  not  entirely  refuse  to  Titian  the  merit  of  attend- 
ing to  the  general  form  of  his  object,  as  well  as  color; 
but  his  deficiency  lay,  a  deficiency  at  least  when  he  is  com- 
pared with  Raffaelle,  in  not  possessing  the  power  like"  him 
of  correcting  the  form  of  his  model  by  any  general 
idea  of  beauty  in  his  own  mind.  Of  this  his  St.  Sebas- 
tian is  a  particular  instance.  This  figure  appears  to  be  a 
most  exact  representation  both  of  the  form  and  the  color 
of  the  model,  which  he  then  happened  to  have  before  him ; 
it  has  all  the  force  of  nature,  and  the  coloring  is  flesh 
itself;  but,  unluckily,  the  model  was  of  a  bad  form,  es- 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


195 


pecially  the  legs.  Titian  has  with  as  much  care  preserved 
these  defects,  as  he  has  imitated  the  beauty  and  brilliancy 
of  the  coloring.  In  his  coloring  he  was  large  and  general, 
as  in  his  design  he  was  minute  and  partial :  in  the  one  he 
was  a  genius,  in  the  other  not  much  above  a  copier.  I  do 
not,  however,  speak  now  of  all  his  pictures :  instances 
enough  may  be  produced  in  his  works,  where  those  ob- 
servations on  his  defects  could  not  with  any  propriety  be 
applied;  but  it  is  in  the  manner  or  language,  as  it  may  be 
called,  in  which  Titian  and  others  of  that  school  express 
themselves,  that  their  chief  excellence  lies.  This  manner 
is  in  reality,  in  painting,  what  language  is  in  poetry ;  we 
are  all  sensible  how  differently  the  imagination  is  affected 
by  the  same  sentiment  expressed  in  different  words,  and 
how  mean  or  how  grand  the  same  object  appears  when  pre- 
sented to  us  by  different  Painters.  Whether  it  is  the  hu- 
man figure,  an  animal,  or  even  inanimate  objects,  there  is 
nothing,  however  unpromising  in  appearance,  but  may  be 
raised  into  dignity,  convey  sentiment  and  produce  emotion, 
in  the  hand  of  a  Painter  of  genius.  What  was  said  of 
Virgil,  that  he  threw  even  the  dung  about  the  ground  with 
an  air  of  dignity,  may  be  applied  to  Titian  :  whatever  he 
touched,  however  naturally  mean,  and  habitually  familiar, 
by  a  kind  of  magic  he  invested  with  grandeur  and  impor- 
tance. 

I  must  here  observe,  that  I  am  not  recommending  a 
neglect  of  the  detail ;  indeed  it  would  be  difficult,  if  not 
impossible,  to  prescribe  certain  bounds,  and  tell  how  far, 
or  when,  it  is  to  be  observed  or  neglected ;  much  must,  at 
last,  be  left  to  the  taste  and  judgment  of  the  artist.  I  am 
well  aware  that  a  judicious  detail  will  sometimes  give  the 
force  of  truth  to  the  work,  and  consequently  interest  the 


196 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


spectator.  I  only  wish  to  impress  on  your  minds  the  true 
distinction  between  essential  and  subordinate  powers;  and 
to  show  what  qualities  in  the  art  claim  your  chief  atten- 
tion, and  what  may,  with  the  least  injury  to  your  reputa- 
tion, be  neglected.  Something,  perhaps,  always  must  be 
neglected;  the  lesser  ought  then  to  give  way  to  the 
greater ;  and  since  every  work  can  have  but  a  limited  time 
allotted  to  it,  (for  even  supposing  a  whole  life  to  be  em- 
ployed about  one  picture,  it  i*,  still  limited,)  it  appears 
more  reasonable  to  employ  that  time  to  the  best  advantage, 
in  contriving  various  methods  of  composing  the  work, — 
in  trying  different  effect  of  light  and  shadow, — and  em- 
ploying the  labor  of  correction  in  heightening  by  a  judi- 
cious adjustment  of  the  parts  the  effects  of  the  whole, — 
than  that  the  time  should  be  taken  up  in  minutely  finish- 
ing those  parts. 

But  there  is  another  kind  of  high  finishing,  which  may 
safely  be  condemned,  as  it  seems*  to  counteract  its  own  pur- 
pose; that  is,  when  the  artist,  to  avoid  that  hardness 
which  proceeds  from  the  outline  cutting  against  the  ground, 
softens  and  blends  the  colors  to  excess ;  this  is  what  the 
ignorant  call  high  finishing,  but  which  tends  to  destroy  the 
brilliancy  of  color,  and  the  true  effect  of  representation ; 
which  consists  very  much  in  preserving  the  same  propor- 
tion of  sharpness  and  bluntness  that  is  found  in  natural 
objects.  This  extreme  softening,  instead  of  producing  the 
effect  of  softness,  gives  the  appearance  of  ivory,  or  some 
other  hard  substance,  highly  polished. 

The  portraits  of  Cornelius  Jansen  appear  to  have  this 
defect,  and  consequently  want  that  suppleness  which  is 
the  characteristic  of  flesh ;  whereas,  in  the  works  of  Van- 
dyck  we  find  the  true  mixture  of  softness  and  hard- 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


197 


ness  perfectly  observed.  The  same  defect  may  be  found 
in  the  manner  of  Vanderwerf,  in  opposition  to  that  of 
Teniersj  and  such  also,  we  may  add,  is  the  manner 
of  Raffaelle  in  his  oil  pictures,  in  comparison  with  that  of 
Titian. 

The  name  which  Raffaelle  has  so  justly  maintained  as 
the  first  of  Painters,  we  may  venture  to  say  was  not  ac- 
quired by  this  laborious  attention.  His  apology  may  be 
made  by  saying  that  it  was  the  manner  of  his  country ; 
but  if  he  had  expressed  his  ideas  with  the  facility  and  elo- 
quence, as  it  may  be  called,  of  Titian,  his  works  would 
certainly  not  have  been  less  excellent;  and  that  praise, 
which  ages  and  nations  have  poured  out  upon  him,  for 
possessing  Genius  in  the  higher  attainments  of  art,  would 
have  been  extended  to  them  all. 

Those  who  are  not  conversant  in  works  of  art,  are  often 
surprised  at  the  high  value  set  by  connoisseurs  on  drawings 
which  appear  careless,  and  in  every  respect  unfinished ;  but 
they  are  truly  valuable ;  and  their  value  arises  from  this, 
that  they  give  the  idea  of  an  whole ;  and  this  whole  is  often 
expressed  by  a  dexterous  facility  which  indicates  the  true 
power  of  a  Painter,  even  though  roughly  exerted ;  whether 
it  consists  in  the  general  composition,  or  the  general  form 
of  each  figure,  or  the  turn  of  the  attitude  which  bestows 
grace  and  elegance.  All  this  we  may  see  fully  exemplified 
in  the  very  skilful  drawings  of  Parmegiano  and  Correggio. 
On  whatever  account  we  value  these  drawings,  it  is  cer- 
tainly not  for  high  finishing,  or  a  minute  attention  to  par- 
ticulars. 

Excellence  in  every  part,  and  in  every  province  of  our 
art,  from  the  highest  style  of  history  down  to  the  resem- 
blances of  still  life,  will  depend  on  this  power  of  extending 
17* 


198 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


the  attention  at  once  to  the  whole,  without  which  the 

greatest  diligence  is  vain. 

I  wish  you  to  bear  in  mind,  that  when  I  speak  of  an 
whole,  I  do  not  mean  simply  an  whole  as  belonging  to 
composition,  but  an  whole  with  respect  to  the  general  style 
of  coloring;  an  whole  with  regard  to  the  light  and  shade; 
an  whole  of  every  thing  whkh  may  separately  become  the 
main  object  of  a  Painter. 

I  remember  a  Landscape-painter  in  Rome,  who  was 
known  by  the  name  of  Studio,  from  his  patience  in  high 
finishing,  in  which  he  thought  the  whole  excellence  of  art 
consisted ;  so  that  he  once  endeavored,  as  he  said,  to  repre- 
sent every  individual  leaf  on  a  tree.  This  picture  I  never 
saw;  but  I  am  very  sure  that  an  artist,  who  looked  only  at 
the  general  character  of  the  species,  the  order  of  the 
branches,  and  the  masses  of  the  foliage,  would  in  a  few 
minutes  produce  a  more  true  resemblance  of  trees  than 
this  Painter  in  as  many  months. 

A  Landscape-painter  certainly  ought  to  study  ana- 
tomically (if  I  may  use  the  expression)  all  the  objects 
which  he  paints ;  but  when  he  is  to  turn  his  studies  to  use, 
his  skill,  as  a  man  of  genius,  will  be  displayed  in  showing 
the  general  effect,  preserving  the  same  degree  of  hardness 
and  softness  which  the  objects  have  in  nature;  for  he 
applies  himself  to  the  imagination,  not  to  the  curiosity, 
and  works  not  for  the  Virtuoso  or  the  Naturalist,  but  for 
the  common  observer  of  life  and  nature.  When  he  knows 
his  subject,  he  will  know  not  only  what  to  describe,  but 
what  to  omit :  and  this  skill  in  leaving  out  is,  in  all  things, 
a  great  part  of  knowledge  and  wisdom. 

The  same  excellence  of  manner  which  Titian  displayed 
in  History  or  Portrait-painting,  is  equally  conspicuous  in 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


199 


his  Landscapes,  whether  they  are  professedly  such,  or 
serve  only  as  backgrounds.  One  of  the  most  eminent  of 
this  latter  kind  is  to  be  found  in  the  picture  of  St.  Pietro 
Martire.  The  large  trees,  which  are  here  introduced,  are 
plainly  distinguished  from  each  other  by  .the  different 
manner  with  which  the  branches  shoot  from  their  trunks, 
as  well  as  by  their  different  foliage ;  and  the  weeds  in  the 
foreground  are  varied  in  the  same  manner,  just  as  much  as 
variety  requires,  and  no  more.  When  Algarotii,  speaking 
of  this  picture,  praises  it  for  the  minute  discriminations  of 
the  leaves  and  plants,  even,  as  he  says,  to  excite  the  admi- 
ration of  a  Botanist,  his  intention  was  undoubtedly  to 
give  praise  even  at  the  expense  of  truth ;  for  he  must  have 
known  that  this  is  not  the  character  of  the  picture ;  but 
connoisseurs  will  always  find  in  pictures  what  they  think 
they  ought  to  find :  he  was  not  aware  that  he  was  giving  a 
description  injurious  to  the  reputation  of  Titian. 

Such  accounts  may  be  very  hurtful  to  young  artists, 
who  never  have  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  work 
described ;  and  they  may  possibly  conclude  that  this  great 
Artist  acquired  the  name  of  the  Divine  Titian  from  his 
eminent  attention  to  such  trifling  circumstances,  which  in 
reality  would  not  raise  him  above  the  level  of  the  most 
ordinary  Painter. 

We  may  extend  these  observations  even  to  what  seems 
to  have  but  a  single,  and  that  an  individual  object.  The 
excellence  of  Portrait-painting,  and,  we  may  add,  even  the 
likeness,  the  character,  and  countenance,  as  I  have  ob- 
served in  another  place,  depend  more  upon  the  general 
effect  produced  by  the  Painter,  than  on  the  exact  expres- 
sion of  the  peculiarities,  or  minute  discrimination  of  the 
parts.    The  chief  attention  of  the  artist  is  therefore  em- 


200 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


ployed  in  planting  the  features  in  their  proper  places, 
which  so  much  contributes  to  giving  the  effect  and  true 
impression  of  the  whole.  The  very  peculiarities  may  be 
reduced  to  classes  and  general  descriptions;  and  there  are 
therefore  large  ideas  to  be  found  even  in  this  contracted 
subject.  He  may  afterwards  labor  single  features  to  what 
degree  he  thinks  proper,  but  let  him  not  forget  continually 
to  examine,  whether  in  finishing  the  parts  he  is  not  de- 
stroying the  general  effect. 

It  is  certainly  a  thing  to  be  wished,  that  all  excellence 
were  applied  to  illustrate  subjects  that  are  interesting  and 
worthy  of  being  commemorated ;  whereas,  of  half  the  pic- 
tures that  are  in  the  world,  the  subject  can  be  valued  only 
as  an  occasion  which  set  the  artist  to  work ;  and  yet,  our 
high  estimation  of  such  pictures,  without  considering,  or 
perhaps  without  knowing  the  subject,  shows  how  much  our 
attention  is  engaged  by  the  art  alone. 

Perhaps  nothing  that  we  can  say  will  so  clearly  show 
the  advantage  and  excellence  of  this  faculty,  as  that  it  con- 
fers the  character  of  Genius  on  works  that  pretend  to  no 
other  merit ;  in  which  is  neither  expression,  character,  or  dig- 
nity, and  where  none  are  interested  in  the  subject.  We  can 
not  refuse  the  character  of  Genius  to  the  Marriage  of  Paulo 
Veronese,  without  opposing  the  general  sense  of  mankind, 
(great  authorities  have  called  it  the  triumph  of  Painting,) 
or  to  the  Altar  of  St.  Augustine  at  Antwerp,  by  Rubens, 
which  equally  deserves  that  title,  and  for  the  same  reason. 
Neither  of  those  pictures  have  any  interesting  story  to  sup- 
port them.  That  of  Paulo  Veronese  is  only  a  representa- 
tion of  a  great  concourse  of  people  at  a  dinner;  and  the 
subject;  of  Rubens,  if  it  may  be  called  a  subject  where 
nothing  is  doing,  is  an  assembly  of  various  Saints  that  lived 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


201 


in  different  ages.  The  whole  excellence  of  those  pictures 
consists  in  mechanical  dexterity,  working,  however,  under 
the  influence  of  that  comprehensive  faculty  which  I  have  so 
often  mentioned. 

It  is  by  this,  and  this  alone,  that  the  mechanical  power 
is  ennobled,  and  raised  much  above  its  natural  rank.  And 
it  appears  to  me,  that  with  propriety  it  acquires  this  char- 
acter, as  an  instance  of  that  superiority  with  which  mind 
predominates  over  matter,  by  contracting  into  one  whole 
what  nature  has  made  multifarious. 

The  great  advantage  of  this  idea  of  a  whole  is,  that  a 
greater  quantity  of  truth  may  be  said  to  be  contained  and 
expressed  in  a  few  lines  or  touches,  than  in  the  most  labo- 
rious finishing  of  the  parts  where  this  is  not  regarded.  It 
is  upon  this  foundation  that  it  stands ;  and  the  justness  of 
the  observation  would  be  confirmed  by  the  ignorant  in  art, 
if  it  were  possible  to  take  their  opinions  unseduced  by  some 
false  notion  of  what  they  imagine  they  ought  to  see  in  a 
Picture.  As  it  is  an  art,  they  think  they  ought  to  be 
pleased  in  proportion  as  they  see  that  art  ostentatiously  dis- 
played; they  will,  from  this  supposition,  prefer  neatness, 
high-finishing,  and  gaudy  coloring,  to  the  truth,  simplicity, 
and  unity  of  nature.  Perhaps,  too,  the  totally  ignorant  be- 
holder, like  the  ignorant  artist,  can  not  comprehend  an  whole 
nor  even  what  it  means.  But  if  false  notions  do  not  anti- 
cipate their  perceptions,  they  who  are  capable  of  observation, 
and  who,  pretending  to  no  skill,  look  only  straight  forward, 
will  praise  and  condemn  in  proportion  as  the  Painter  has 
succeeded  in  the  effect  of  the  whole.  Here,  general  satis- 
faction, or  general  dislike,  though  perhaps  despised  by  the 
Painter,  as  proceeding  from  the  ignorance  of  the  principles 
of  art,  may  yet  help  to  regulate  his  conduct,  and  bring  back 


202 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


his  attention  to  that  which  ought  to  be  his  principal  object, 
and  from  which  he  has  deviated  for  the  sake  of  minuter 
beauties. 

An  instance  of  'this  right  judgment  I  once  saw  in  a 
child,  in  going  through  a  gallery  where  there  were  many 
portraits  of  the  last  ages,  which,  though  neatly  put  out 
of  hand,  were  very  ill  put  together.  The  child  -  paid 
no  attention  to  the  neat  finishing  or  naturalness  of  any 
bit  of  drapery,  but  appeared  to  observe  only  the  un- 
gracefulness  of  the  persons  represented,  and  put  herself 
m  the  posture  of  every  figure  which  she  saw  in  a  forced 
and  awkward  attitude.  The  censure  of  nature,  uninform- 
ed, fastened  upon  the  greatest  fault  that  could  be  in  a 
picture,  because  it  related  to  the  character  and  manage- 
ment of  the  whole. 

I  should  be  sorry,  if  what  has  been  said  should  be  un- 
derstood to  have  any  tendency  to  encourage  that  careless- 
ness which  leaves  work  in  an  unfinished  state.  I  commend 
nothing  for  the  want  of  exactness ;  I  mean  to  point  out 
that  kind  of  exactness  which  is  the  best,  and  which  is  alone 
truly  to  be  so  esteemed.  ~ 

So  far  is  my  disquisition  from  giving  countenance  to 
idleness,  that  there  is  nothing  in  our  art  which  enforces 
such  continual  exertion  and  circumspection,  as  an  attention 
to  the  general  effect  of  the  whole.  It  requires  much  study 
and  much  practice ;  it  requires  the  Painter's  entire  mind; 
whereas  the  parts  may  be  finishing  by  nice  touches,  while 
his  mind  is  engaged  on  other  matters;  he  may  even  hear 
a  play  or  a  novel  read  without  much  disturbance.  The 
artist  who  flatters  his  own  indolence,  will  continually  find 
himself  evading  this  active  exertion,  and  applying  his 
thoughts  to  the  ease  andjlaziness  of  highly  finishing  the 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


203 


parts;  producing  at  last  what  Cowley  calls  " laborious 
effects  of  idleness." 

No  work  can  be  too  much  finished,  provided  the  dili- 
gence employed  be  directed  to  its  proper  object;  but  I 
have  observed  that  an  excessive  labor  in  the  detail  has,  nine 
times  in  ten,  been  pernicious  to  the  general  effect,  even 
when  it  has  been  the  labor  of  great  masters.  It  indicates 
a  bad  choice,  which  is  an  ill  setting  out  in  any  underta- 
king. 

To  give  a  right  direction  to  your  industry  has  been 
my  principal  purpose  in  this  discourse.  It  is  this,  which  I 
am  confident  often  makes  the  difference  between  two  Stu- 
dents of  equal  capacities,  and  of  equal  industry.  While 
the  one  is  employing  his  labor  on  minute  objects  of  little 
consequence,  the  other  is  acquiring  the  art,  and  perfecting 
the  habit,  of  seeing  nature  in  an  extensive  view,  in  its 
proper  proportions,  and  its  due  subordination  of  parts. 

Before  I  conclude,  I  must  make  one  observation  suffi- 
ciently connected  with  the  present  subject. 

The  same  extension  of  mind  which  gives  the  excellence 
of  G  enius  to  the  theory  and  mechanical  practice  of  the  art, 
will  direct  him  likewise  in  the  method  of  study,  and  give 
him  the  superiority  over  those  who  narrowly  follow  a  more 
confined  track  of  partial  imitation.  Whoever,  in  order  to 
finish  his  education,  should  travel  to  Italy,  and  spend  his 
whole  time  there  only  in  copying  pictures,  and  measuring 
statues  or  buildings,  (though  these  things  are  not  to  be  neg- 
lected, )Ywould  return  with  littlo  improvement.  He  that 
imitates  the  Iliad,  says  Dr.  Young,  is  not  imitating  Homer. 
It  is  not  by  laying  up  in  the  memory  the  particular  details 
of  any  of  the  great  works  of  art,  that  any  man  becomes  a 
great  artist,  if  he  stops  without  making  himself  master  of 


204 


THE  ELEVENTH  DISCOURSE. 


the  general  principles  on  which  these  works  are  conducted. 
If  he  even  hopes  to  rival  those  whom  he  admires,  he  must 
consider  their  works  as  the  means  of  teaching  him  the  true 
art  of  seeing  nature.  When  this  is  acquired,  he  then  may  be 
said  to  have  appropriated  their  powers,  or  at  least  the  foun- 
dation of  their  powers,  to  himself ;  the  rest  must  depend 
upon  his  own  industry  and  application.  The  great  business 
of  study  is,  to  form  a  mind,  adapted  and  adequate  to  all 
times  and  all  occasions ;  to  which  all  nature  is  then  laid 
open,  and  which  may  be  said  to  possess  the  key  of  her  in- 
exhaustible riches. 


DISCOURSE  XII. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  10,  1784. 

Particular  methods  of  study  of  little  consequence.— Little  of  the  Art  can  be 
taught. — Love  of  method  often  a  love  of  idleness. — Pittori  improvvisatori  apt 
to  be  careless  and  incorrect ;  seldom  original  and  striking. — This  proceeds  from 
their  not  studying  the  works  of  other  masters. 

GENTLEMEN, 

In  consequence  of  the  situation  in  which  I  have  the  honor 
to  be  placed  in  this  Academy,  it  has  often  happened,  that  I 
have  been  consulted  by  the  young  Students  who  intend  to 
spend  some  years  in  Italy,  concerning  the  method  of  reg- 
ulating their  studies.  I  am,  as  I  ought  to  be,  solicitously 
desirous  to  communicate  the  entire  result  of  my  experience 
and  observation ;  and  though  my  openness  and  facility  in 
giving  my  opinions  might  make  some  amends  for  whatever 
was  defective  in  them,  yet  I  fear  my  answers  have  not  often 
given  satisfaction.  Indeed  I  have  never  been  sure,  that  I 
understood  perfectly  what  they  meant,  and  was  not  without 
some  suspicion  that  they  had  not  themselves  very  distinct 
ideas  of  the  object  of  their  inquiry. 

If  the  information  required  was,  by  what  means  the 
path  that  leads  to  excellence  could  be  discovered ;  if  they 
wished  to  know  whom  they  were  to  take  for  their  guides ; 
what  to  adhere  to,  and  what  to  avoid ;  where  they  were  to 
bait,  and  where  they  were  to  take  up  their  rest ;  what  was 
to  be  tasted  only,  and  what  should  be  their  diet;  such  gen- 
eral directions  are  certainly  proper  for  a  Student  to  ask, 

18 


206 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


and  for  me,  to  the  best  of  my  capacity,  to  give ;  but  these 
rules  have  been  already  given ;  they  have,  in  reality,  been 
the  subject  of  almost  all  my  Discourses  from  this  place. 
But  I  am  rather  inclined  to  think  that  by  method  of  study, 
it  was  meant,  (as  several  do  mean,)  that  the  times  and  the 
seasons  should  be  prescribed,  and  the  order  settled,  in 
which  every  thing  was  to  be  done :  that  it  might  be  useful 
to  point  out  to  what  degree  of  excellence  one  part  of  the 
Art  was  to  be  carried,  before  the  Student  proceeded  to  the 
next ;  how  long  he  was  to  continue  to  draw  from  the  ancient 
statues,  when  to  begin  to  compose,  and  when  to  apply  to 
the  study  of  coloring. 

Such  a  detail  of  instruction  might  be  extended  with  a 
great  deal  of  plausible  and  ostentatious  amplification.  But 
it  would  at  best  be  useless.  Our  studies  will  be  for  ever, 
in  a  very  great  degree,  under  the  direction  of  chance ;  like 
travelers,  we  must  take  what  we  can  get,  and  when  we  can 
get  it ;  whether  it  is  or  is  not  administered  to  us  in  the  most 
commodious  manner,  in  the  most  proper  place,  or  at  the 
exact  minute  when  we  would  wish  to  have  it. 

Treatises  on  education,  and  method  of  study,  have  al- 
ways appeared  to  me  to  have  one  general  fault.  They  pro- 
ceed upon  a  false  supposition  of  life ;  as  if  we  possessed  not 
only  a  power  over  events  and  circumstances,  but  had  a 
greater  power  over  ourselves  than  I  believe  any  of  us  will 
be  found  to  possess.  Instead  of  supposing  ourselves  to  be 
perfect  patterns  of  wisdom  and  virtue,  it  seems  to  me  more 
reasonable  to  treat  ourselves  (as  I  am  sure  we  must  now  and 
then  treat  others)  like  humorsome  children,  whose  fancies  are 
often  to  be  indulged,  in  order  to  keep  them  in  good  humor 
with  themselves  and  their  pursuits.  It  is  necessary  to  .use 
some  artifice  of  this  kind  in  all  processes  which  by  their 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


207 


very  nature  are  long,  tedious,  and  complex,  in  order  to 
prevent  our  taking  that  aversion  to  our  studies,  which  the 
continual  shackles  of  methodical  restraint  are  sure  to 
produce. 

I  would  rather  wish  a  student,  as  soon  as  he  goes  abroad, 
to  employ  himself  upon  whatever  he  has  been  incited  to  by 
any  immediate  impulse,  than  to  go  sluggishly  about  a  pre- 
scribed task ;  whatever  he  does  in  such  a  state  of  mind,  lit- 
tle advantage  accrues  from  it,  as  nothing  sinks  deep  enough 
to  leave  any  lasting  impression ;  and  it  is  impossible  that 
any  thing  should  be  well  understood,  or  well  done,  that  is 
taken  into  a  reluctant  understanding,  and  executed  with  a 
servile  hand. 

It  is  desirable,  and  indeed  is  necessary  to  intellectual 
health,  that  the  mind  should  be  recreated  and  refreshed 
with  a  variety  in  our  studies ;  that  in  the  irksomcness  of 
uniform  pursuit  we  should  be  relieved,  and,  if  I  may  so  say, 
deceived,  as  much  as  possible.  Besides,  the  minds  of  men 
are  so  very  differently  constituted,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
find  one  method  which  shall  be  suitable  to  all.  It  is  of  no 
use  to  prescribe  to  those  who  have  no  talents;  and  those 
who  have  talents  will  find  methods  for  themselves — methods 
dictated  to  them  by  their  own  particular  dispositions,  and 
by  the  experience  of  their  own  particular  necessities. 

However,  I  would  not  be  understood  to  extend  this  doc- 
trine to  the  younger  students.  The  first  part  of  the  life  of 
a  student,  like  that  of  other  school-boys,  must  necessarily 
be  a  life  of  restraint.  The  grammar,  the  rudiments,  how- 
ever unpalatable,  must  at  all  events  be  mastered.  After  a 
habit  is  acquired  of  drawing  correctly  from  the  model  (what- 
ever it  may  be)  which  he  has  before  him,  the  rest,  I  think, 
may  be  safely  left  to  chance ;  always  supposing  that  the  stu- 


208 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


dent  is  employed,  and  that  his  studies  are  directed  to  the 
proper  object. 

A  passion  for  his  art,  and  an  eager  desire  to  excel,  will 
more  than  supply  the  place  of  method.  By  leaving  a  stu- 
dent to  himself,  he  may  possibly  indeed  be  led  to  undertake 
matters  above  his  strength ;  but  the  trial  will  at  least  have 
this  advantage,  it  will  discover  to  himself  his  own  deficien- 
cies ;  and  this  discovery  alone,  is  a  very  considerable  acqui- 
sition. One  inconvenience,  I  acknowledge,  may  attend  bold 
and  arduous  attempts;  frequent  failure  may  discourage. 
This  evil,  however,  is  not  more  pernicious  than  the  slow 
proficiency  which  is  the  natural  consequence  of  too  easy 
tasks. 

Whatever  advantages  method  may  have  in  dispatch  of 
business,  (and  there  it  certainly  has  many,)  I  have  but  lit- 
tle confidence  of  its  efficacy  in  acquiring  excellence  in  any 
art  whatever.  Indeed,  I  have  always  strongly  suspected, 
that  this  love  of  method,  on  which  some  persons  appear  to 
place  so  great  dependence,  is,  in  reality,  at  the  bottom,  a 
love  of  idleness,  a  want  of  sufficient  energy  to  put  themselves 
into  immediate  action  :  it  is  a  sort  of  an  apology  to  them- 
selves for  doing  nothing.  I  have  known  artists  who  may 
truly  be  said  to  have  spent  their  whole  lives,  or  at  least  the 
most  precious  part  of  their  lives,  in  planning  methods  of 
study,  without  ever  beginning;  resolving,  however,  to  put 
it  all  in  practice  at  some  time  or  other, — when  a  certain 
period  arrives, — when  proper  conveniences  are  procured, — 
or  when  they  remove  to  a  certain  place  better  calculated  for 
study.  It  is  not  uncommon  for  such  persons  to  go  abroad 
with  the  most  honest  and  sincere  resolution  of  studying 
hard,  when  they  shall  arrive  at  the  end  of  their  journey. 
The  same  want  of  exertion,  arising  from  the  same  cause 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


209 


which  made  them  at  home  put  off  the  day  of  labor  until 
they  had  found  a  proper  scheme  for  it,  still  continues  in 
Italy,  and  they  consequently  return  home  with  little,  if  any, 
improvement. 

In  the  practice  of  art,  as  well  as  in  morals,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  keep  a  watchful  and  jealous  eye  over  ourselves ;  idle- 
ness, assuming  the  specious  disguise  of  industry,  will  lull 
to  sleep  all  suspicion  of  our  want  of  an  active  exertion 
of  strength.  A  provision  of  endless  apparatus,  a  bustle  of 
infinite  inquiry  and  research,  or  even  the  mere  mechanical 
labor  of  copying,  may  be  employed,  to  evade  and  shuffle  off 
real  labor, — the  real  labor  of  thinking. 

I  have  declined,  for  these  reasons,  to  point  out  any  par- 
ticular method  and  course  of  study  to  young  Artists  on  their 
arrival  in  Italy.  I  have  left  it  to  their  own  prudence,  a 
prudence  which  will  grow  and  improve  upon  them  in  the 
course  of  unremitted,  ardent  industry,  directed  by  a  real 
love  of  their  profession,  and  an  unfeigned  admiration  of 
those  who  have  been  universally  admitted  as  patterns  of 
excellence  in  the  art. 

In  the  exercise  of  that  general  prudence,  I  shall  here 
submit  to  their  consideration  such  miscellaneous  observa- 
tions as  have  occurred  to  me  on  considering  the  mistaken 
notions  or  evil  habits,  which  have  prevented  that  progress 
toward  excellence,  which  the  natural  abilities  of*  several 
Artists  might  otherwise  have  enabled  them  to  make. 

False  opinions  and  vicious  habits  have  done  far  more 
mischief  to  students,  and  to  Professors  too,  than  any  wrong 
methods  of  study. 

Under  the  influence  of  sloth,  or  of  some  mistaken  no- 
tion, is  that  disposition  which  always  wants  to  lean  on  other 
men.    Such  students  are  always  talking  of  the  nrodigious 
18* 


210 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


progress  they  should  make,  if  they  could  hut  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  heing  taught  hy  some  particular  eminent  Master. 
To  him  they  would  wish  to  transfer  that  care,  which  they 
ought  and  must  take  of  themselves.  Such  are  to  be  told, 
that  after  the  rudiments  are  past,  very  little  of  our  Art  can 
be  taught  by  others.  The  most  skilful  Master  can  do  little 
more  than  put  the  end  of  the  clue  into  the  hands  of  his 
Scholar,  by  which  he  must  conduct  himself. 

It  is  true,  the  beauties  and  defects  of  the  works  of  our 
predecessors  may  be  pointed  out;  the  principles  on  which 
their  works  are  conducted  may  be  explained  j  the  great  ex- 
amples of  Ancient  Art  may  be  spread  out  before  them ;  but 
the  most  sumptuous  entertainment  is  prepared  in  vain,  if 
the  guests  will  not  take  the  trouble  of  helping  themselves. 

Even  the  Academy  itself,  where  every  convenience  for 
study  is  procured,  and  laid  before  them,  may,  -from  that 
very  circumstance,  from  leaving  no  difficulties  to  be  en- 
countered in  the  pursuit,  cause  a  remission  of  their  indus- 
try. It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  young  artists,  whilst  they 
are  struggling  with  every  obstacle  in  their  way,  exert  them- 
selves with  such  success  as  to  outstrip  competitors  possessed 
of  every  means  of  improvement.  The  promising  expectation 
which  was  formed,  on  so  much  being  done  with  so  little 
means,  has  recommended  them  to  a  Patron,  who  has  sup- 
plied them  with  every  convenience  of  study ;  from  that  time 
their  industry  and  eagerness  of  pursuit  has  forsaken  them ; 
they  stand  still,  and  see  others  rush  on  before  them. 

Such  men  are  like  certain  animals,  who  will  feed  only 
when  there  is  but  little  provender,  and  that  got  at  with 
difficulty  through  the  bars  of  a  rack,  but  refuse  to  touch  it 
when  there  is  an  abundance  before  them. 

Perhaps,  such  a  falling  off  may  proceed  from  the  fac- 


TUT  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


211 


ulties  bo*'  g  overpowered  by  the  immensity  of  the  materials ; 
as  the  traveller  dc.  airs  ever  to  arrive  at  the  end  of  his 
journey,  wher  the  «  he Tc  ^xtent  of  the  road  which  he  is  to 
pass  is  at  once  displayed  to  his  view. 

Among  the  first  moral  qualities,  therefore,  which  a 
Student  ought  to  cultivate,  is  a  just  and  manly  confidence 
in  himself,  or  rather  in  the  effects  of  that  persevering  indus- 
try which  he  is  resolved  to  possess. 

When  Raffaelle,  by  means  of  his  connection  with  Bra- 
mante,  the  Pope's  Architect,  was  fixed  upon  to  adorn  the 
Vatican  with  his  works,  he  had  done  nothing  that  marked 
in  him  any  great  superiority  over  his  contemporaries;  though 
he  was  then  but  young,  he  had  under  his  direction  the 
most  considerable  Artists  of  his  age ;  and  we  know  what 
kind  of  men  those  were ;  a  lesser  mind  would  have  sunk 
under  such  a  weight ;  and  if  we  should  judge  from  the  meek 
and  gentle  disposition  which  we  are  told  was  the  character 
of  Raffaelle,  we  might  expect  this  would  have  happened  to 
him ;  but  his  strength  appeared  to  increase  in  proportion  as 
exertion  was  required ;  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  we  are 
indebted  to  the  good  fortune  which  first  placed  him  in  that 
conspicuous  situation,  for  those  great  examples  of  excellence 
which  he  has  left  us. 

The  observations  to  which  I  formerly  wished,  and  now 
desire,  to  point  your  attention,  relate  not  to  errors  which  are 
committed  by  those  who  have  no  claim  to  merit,  but  to  those 
inadvertencies  into  which  men  of  parts  only  can  fall  by  the 
over-rating  or  the  abuse  of  some  real,  though  perhaps  sub- 
ordinate, excellence.  The  errors  last  alluded  to  are  those 
of  backward,  timid  characters ;  what  I  shall  now  speak  of, 
belong  to  another  class;  to  those  Artists  who  are  distin- 
guished for  the  readiness  and  facility  of  their  invention.  It 


212 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


is  undouotedly  a  splendid  and  desirable  accomplishment  to 
be  able  to  design  instantaneously  any  given  subject.  It  is 
an  excellence  that  I  believe  every  Artist  would  wish  to  pos- 
sess ;  but  unluckily,  the  manner  in  which  this  dexterity  is 
acquired,  habituates  the  mind  to  be  contented  with  first 
thoughts  without  choice  or  selection.  The  judgment,  after 
it  has  been  long  passive,  by  degrees  loses  its  power  of  be- 
coming active  when  exertion  is  necessary. 

Whoever,  therefore,  has  this  talent,  must  in  some  mea- 
sure undo  what  he  has  had  the  habit  of  doing,  or  at  least 
give  a  new  turn  to  his  mind  :  great  works,  which  are  to  live 
and  stand  the  criticism  of  posterity,  are  not  performed  at  a 
heat.  A  proportionable  time  is  required  for  deliberation 
and  circumspection.  I  remember  when  I  was  at  Rome 
looking  at  the  fighting  Gladiator,  in  company  with  an  emi- 
nent Sculptor,  and  I  expressed  my  admiration  of  the  skill 
with  which  the  whole  is  composed,  and  the  minute  attention 
of  the  Artist  to  the  change  of  every  muscle  in  that  mo- 
mentary exertion  of  strength  :  he  was  of  opinion  that  a  work 
so  perfect  required  nearly  the  whole  life  of  man  to  perform. 

I  believe,  if  we  look  around  us,  we  shall  find,  that  in 
the  sister  art  of  Poetry,  what  has  been  soon  done,  has  been 
as  soon  forgotten.  The  judgment  and  practice  of  a  great 
Poet  on  this  occasion  is  worthy  attention.  Metastasio,  who 
has  so  much  and  justly  distinguished  himself  throughout 
Europe,  at  his  outset  was  an  Iniprovvisatore,  or  extempore 
Poet,  a  description  of  men  not  uncommon  in  Italy  :  it  is  not 
long  since  he  was  asked  by  a  friend,  if  he  did  not  think  the 
custom  of  inventing  and  reciting  extempore,  which  he  prac- 
ticed when'  a  boy  in  his  character  of  an  Improvvisatore, 
might  not  be  considered  as  a  happy  beginning  of  his  educa- 
tion ;  he  thought  it.  on  the  contrary,  a  disadvantage  to  him  : 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


213 


he  said  that  he  had  acquired  by  that  habit  a  carelessness  and 
incorrectness,  which  it  cost  him  much  trouble  to  overcome, 
and  to  substitute  in  the  place  of  it  a  totally  different  habit, 
that  of  thinking  with  selection,  and  of  expressing  himself 
with  correctness  and  precision. 

However  extraordinary  it  may  appear,  it  is  certainly 
true,  that  the  inventions  of  the  Pittori  improvvisatori,  as 
they  may  be  called,  have, — notwithstanding  the  common 
boast  of  their  authors  that  all  is  spun  from  their  own  brain, 
— very  rarely  any  thing  that  has  in  the  least  the  air  of 
originality; — their  compositions  are  generally  common- 
place, uninteresting,  without  character  or  expression  j  like 
those  flowery  speeches  that  we  sometimes  hear,  which  im- 
press no  new  ideas  on  the  mind. 

I  would  not  be  thought,  however,  by  what  has  been  said, 
to  oppose  the  use,  the  advantage,  the  necessity  there  is,  of 
a  Painter's  being  readily  able  to  express  his  ideas  by  sketch- 
ing. The  evil  to  be  apprehended  is,  his  resting  there,  and 
not  correcting  them  afterwards  from  nature,  or  taking  the 
trouble  to  look  about  him  for  whatever  assistance  the  works 
of  others  will  afford  him. 

We  are  not  to  suppose,  that  when  a  Painter  sits  down 
to  deliberate  on  any  work,  he  has  all  his  knowledge  to  seek  ; 
he  must  not  only  be  able  to  draw  extempore  the  human 
figure  in  every  variety  of  action,  but  he  must  be  acquainted 
likewise  with  the  general  principles  of  composition,  and 
possess  a  habit  of  foreseeing,  while  he  is  composing,  the  effect 
of  the  masses  of  light  and  shadow,  that  will  attend  such  a 
disposition.  His  mind  is  entirely  occupied  by  his  attention 
to  the  whole.  It  is  a  subsequent  consideration  to  determine 
the  attitude  and  expression  of  individual  figures.  It  is  in 
this  period  of  his  work  that  I  would  recommend  to  every 


214 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


artist  to  look  over  his  portfolio,  or  pocket-book,  in  which  he 
has  treasured  up  all  the  happy  inventions,  all  the  extraor- 
dinary and  expressive  attitudes,  that  he  has  met  with  in 
the  course  of  his  studies ;  not  only  for  the  sake  of  borrowing 
from  those  studies  whatever  may  be  applicable  to  his  own 
work,  but  likewise  on  account  of  the  great  advantage  he  will 
receive  by  bringing  the  ideas  of  great  Artists  more  distinctly 
before  his  mind,  which  will  teach  him  to  invent  other  fig- 
ures in  a  similar  style. 

Sir  Francis  Bacon  speaks  with  approbation  of  the  pro- 
visionary  methods  Demosthenes  and  Cicero  employed  to  as- 
sist their  invention ;  and  illustrates  their  use  by  a  quaint 
comparison  after  his  manner.  These  particular  Studios 
being  not  immediately  connected  with  our  art,  I  need  not 
cite  the  passage  I  allude  to,  and  shall  only  observe  that  such 
preparation  totally  opposes  the  generally  received  opinions 
that  are  floating  in  the  world,  concerning  genius  and  inspi- 
ration. The  same  great  man,  in  another  place,  speaking  of 
his  own  essays,  remarks,  that  they  treat  of  u  those  things, 
wherein  both  men's  lives  and  persons  are  most  conversant, 
whereof  a  man  shall  find  much  in  experience,  but  little  in 
books :"  they  are  then  what  an  artist  would  naturally  call 
invention,  and  yet  we  may  suspect  that  even  the  genius  of 
Bacon,  great  as  it  was,  would  never  have  been  enabled  to 
have  made  those  observations,  if  his  mind  had  not  been 
trained  and  disciplined  by  reading  the  observations  of  others. 
Nor  could  he  without  such  reading  have  known  that  those 
opinions  were  not  to  be  found  in  other  books. 

I  know  there  are  many  Artists  of  great  fame  who  ap- 
pear never  to  have  looked  out  of  themselves,  and  who  prob- 
ably would  think  it  derogatory  to  their  character,  to  be 
supposed  to  borrow  from  any  other  Painter.    But  when  we 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


215 


recollect,  and  compare  the  works  of  such  men  with  those 
who  took  to  their  assistance  the  inventions  of  others,  we 
shall  be  convinced  of  the  great  advantage  of  this  latter 
practice. 

The  two  men  most  eminent  for  readiness  of  invention, 
that  occur  to  me,  are  Luca  Giordano  and  La  Fage;  one  in 
painting  and  the  other  in  drawing. 

To  such  extraordinary  powers  as  were  possessed  by  both 
of  those  Artists,  we  can  not  refuse  the  character  of  Genius  ; 
at  the  same  time,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that  it  was  that 
kind  of  mechanic  Genius  which  operates  without  much 
assistance  of  the  head.  In  all  their  works,  which  are  fas 
might  be  expected)  very  numerous,  we  may  look  in  vain  for 
any  thing  that  can  be  said  to  be  original  and  striking  j  and 
yet,  according  to  the  ordinary  ideas  of  originality,  they 
have  as  good  pretensions  as  most  Painters ;  for  they  bor- 
rowed very  little  from  others,  and  still  less  will  any  Artist, 
that  can  distinguish  between  excellence  and  insipidity,  ever 
borrow  from  them. 

To  those  men,  and  all  such,  let  us  oppose  the  practice 
of  the  first  of  Painters.  I  suppose  we  shall  all  agree,  that 
no  man  ever  possessed  a  greater  power  of  invention,  and 
stood  less  in  need  of  foreign  assistance,  than  RafFaelle  ;  and 
yet,  when  he  was  designing  one  of  his  greatest  as  well  as 
latest  works,  the  Cartoons,  it  is  very  apparent  that  he  had 
the  studies  which  he  had  made  from  Masaccio  before  him. 
Two  noble  figures  of  St.  Paul,  which  he  found  there,  he 
adopted  in  his  own  work :  one  of  them  he  took  for  St.  Paul 
preaching  at  Athens  :  and  the  other  for  the  same  Saint, 
when  chastising  the  sorcerer  Elymas.  Another  figure  in 
the  same  work,  whose  head  is  sunk  in  his  breast,  with  his 
eyes  shut,  appearing  deeply  wrapt  up  in  thought,  was  intro- 


216 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


duced  amongst  the  listeners  to  the  preaching  of  St.  Paul. 
The  most  material  alteration  that  is  made  in  those  two  fig- 
ures of  St.  Paul,  is  the  addition  of  the  left  hands,  which  are 
not  seen  in  the  original.  It  is  a  rule  that  Raffaelle  ob- 
served, (and  indeed  ought  never  to  be  dispensed  with,)  in  a 
principal  figure,  to  show  both  hands ;  that  it  should  never 
be  a  question,  what  is  become  of  the  other  hand.  For  the 
sacrifice  at  Lystra,  he  took  the  whole  ceremony  much  as  it 
stands  in  an  ancient  Basso-relievo,  since  published  in  the 
Admiranda. 

I  have  given  examples  from  those  pictures  only  of 
Raffaelle  which  we  have  among  us,  though  many  other 
instances  might  be  produced  of  this  great  painter's  not 
disdaining  assistance;  indeed  his  known  wealth  was  so 
great,  that  he  might  borrow  where  he  pleased  without  loss 
of  credit. 

It  may  be  remarked  that  this  work  of  Masaccio,  from 
which  he  has  borrowed  so  freely,  was  a  public  work,  and  at 
no  farther  distance  from  Rome  than  Florence ;  so  that  if 
he  had  considered  it  a  disgraceful  theft,  he  was  sure  to  be 
detected ;  but  he  was  well  satisfied  that  his  character  for 
Invention  would  be  little  affected  by  such  a  discovery; 
nor  is  it,  except  in  the  opinion  of  those  who  are  ignorant 
of  the  manner  in  which  great  works  are  built. 

Those  who  steal  from  mere  poverty;  who,  having 
nothing  of  their  own,  can  not  exist  a  minute  without 
making  such  depredations ;  who  are  so  poor  that  they  have 
no  place  in  which  they  can  even  deposit  what  they  have 
taken ;  to  men  of  this  description  nothing  can  be  said : 
but  such  artists  as  those  to  whom  I  suppose  myself  now 
speaking,  men  whom  I  consider  as  competently  provided 
with  all  the  necessaries  and  conveniences  of  art,  and  who 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


217 


do  not  desire  to  steal  baubles  and  common  trash,  but  wish 
only  to  possess  peculiar  rarities  which  they  select  to  orna- 
ment their  cabinets,  and  take  care  to  enrich  the  general 
store  with  materials  of  equal  or  of  greater  value  than  what 
they  have  taken ;  such  men  surely  need  not  be  ashamed  of 
that  friendly  intercourse  which  ought  to  exist  among 
artists,  of  receiving  from  the  dead  and  giving  to  the  living, 
and  perhaps  to  those  who  are  yet  unborn. 

The  daily  food  and  nourishment  of  the  mind  of  an 
artist  is  found  in  the  great  works  of  his  predecessors. 
There  is  no  other  way  for  him  to  become  great  himself. 
Serpens,  nisi  serpentem  comedcrity  non  Jit  draco*  is  a 
remark  of  a  whimsical  natural  history,  which  I  have  read, 
though  I  do  not  recollect  its  title  :  however  false  as  to 
dragons,  it  is  applicable  enough  to  artists. 

Raffaclle,  as  appears  from  what  has  been  said,  had 
carefully  studied  the  works  of  Masaccio;  and,  indeed, 
there  was  no  other,  if  we  except  Micha.el  Angelo,  (whom 
he  likewise  imitated,)  so  worthy  of  his  attention;  and 
though  his  manner  was  dry  and  hard,  his  compositions 
formal,  and  not  enough  diversified  according  to  the  custom 
of  Painters  in  that  early  period,  yet  his  works  possess  that 
grandeur  and  simplicity  which  accompany,  and  even  some- 
times proceed  from,  regularity  and  hardness  of  manner. 
We  must  consider  the  barbarous  state  of  the  Arts  before 
his  time,  when  skill  in  drawing  was  so  little  understood 
that  the  best  of  the  painters  could  not  even  foreshorten 
the  foot,  but  every  figure  appeared  to  stand  upon  its  toes ; 
and  what  served  for  drapery,  had,  from  the  hardness 

*  In  Ben  Jonson's  Catiline  we  find  this  aphorism,  with  a  slight 
variation: — 

"  A  serpent,  ere  he  comes  to  be  a  dragon, 
Must  eat  a  bat."— ML 

19 


218 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


and  smallness  of  the  folds,  too  much  the  appearance  of 
cords  clinging  round  the  body.  He  first  introduced  large 
drapery,  flowing  in  an  easy  and  natural  manner :  indeed  he 
appears  to  be  the  first  who  discovered  the  path  that  leads 
to  every  excellence  to  which  the  Art  afterwards  arrived, 
and  may,  therefore,  be  justly  considered  as  one  of  the 
great  Fathers  of  the  modern  Art. 

Though  I  have  been  led  on  to  a  longer  digression 
respecting  this  great  Painter  than  I  intended,  yet  I  can  not 
avoid  mentioning  another  excellence  which  he  possessed  in 
a  very  eminent  degree  :  he  was  as  much  distinguished 
among  his  contemporaries  for  his  diligence  and  industry, 
as  he  was  for  the  natural  faculties  of  his  mind.  We  are 
told  that  his  whole  attention  was  absorbed  in  the  pursuit 
of  his  art,  and  that  he  acquired  the  name  of  Masaccio,* 
from  his  total  disregard  to  his  dress,  his  person,  and  all  the 
common  concerns  of  life.  He  is,  indeed,  a  signal  instance 
of  what  well-directed  diligence  will  do  in  a  short  time ;  he 
lived  but  twenty-seven  years;  yet  in  that  short  space 
carried  the  art  so  far  beyond  what  it  had  before  reached, 
that  he  appears  to  stand  alone  as  a  model  for  his  succes- 
sors. Vasari  gives  a  long  catalogue  of  Painters  and 
Sculptors,  who  formed  their  taste,  and  learned  their  art, 
by  studying  his  works ;  among  those,  he  names  Michael 
Angelo,  Leonardi  da  Yinci,  Pietro  Perugino,  RafFaelle, 
Bartolomeo,  Andrea  del  Sarto,  II  Rosso,  and  Pierino  del 
Vaga. 

The  habit  of  contemplating  and  brooding  over  the 
ideas  of  great  geniuses,  till  you  find  yourself  warmed  by 
the  contact,  is  the  true  method  of  forming  an  artist-like 

*  The  addition  of  actio  denotes  some  deformity  or  imperfection 
attending  that  person  to  whom  it  is  applied. — R. 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


219 


mind;  it  is  impossible,  in  the  presence  of  those  great  men, 
to  think,  or  invent  in  a  mean  manner ;  a  state  of  mind  is 
acquired  that  receives  those  ideas  only  which  relish  of 
grandeur  and  simplicity. 

Besides  the  general  advantage  of  forming  the  taste  by 
such  an  intercourse,  there  is  another  of  a  particular  kind, 
which  was  suggested  to  me  by  the  practice  of  Raffaelle, 
when  imitating  the  work  of  which  I  have  been  speaking. 
The  figure  of  the  Proconsul,  Sergius  Paulus,  is  taken  from 
the  Felix  of  Masaccio,  though  one  is  a  front  figure,  and 
the  other  seen  in  profile ;  the  action  is  likewise  somewhat 
changed )  but  it  is  plain  Raffaelle  had  that  figure  in  his 
mind.  There  is  a  circumstance  indeed,  which  I  mention 
by  the  by,  which  marks  it  very  particularly  j  Sergius  Pau- 
lus wears  a  crown  of  laurel ;  this  is  hardly  reconcileable  to 
strict  propriety,  and  the  costume,  of  which  Raffaelle  was  in 
general  a  good  observer ;  but  he  found  it  so  in  Masaccio, 
and  he  did  not  bestow  so  much  pains  in  disguise  as  to 
change  it.  It  appears  to  me  to  be  an  excellent  practice, 
thus  to  suppose  the  figures  which  you  wish  to  adopt  in  the 
works  of  those  great  Painters  to  be  statues ;  and  to  give,  as 
Raffaelle  has  here  given,  another  view,  taking  care  to  pre- 
serve all  the  spirit  and  grace  you  find  in  the  original. 

I  should  hope,  from  what  has  been  lately  said,  that  it 
is  not  necessary  to  guard  myself  against  any  supposition  of 
recommending  an  entire  dependence  upon  former  masters. 
I  do  not  desire  that  you  should  get  other  people  to  do  your 
business,  or  to  think  for  you ;  I  only  wish  you  to  consult 
with,  to  call  in  as  counsellors,  men  the  most  distinguished 
for  their  knowledge  and  experience,  the  result  of  which 
counsel  must  ultimately  depend  upon  yourself.  Such  con- 
duct in  the  commerce  of  life  has  never  been  considered  as 


220 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


disgraceful,  or  in  any  respect  to  imply  intellectual  imbe- 
cility )  it  is  a  sign  rather  of  that  true  wisdom,  which  feels 
individual  imperfection ;  and  is  conscious  to  itself  how 
much  collective  observation  is  necessary  to  fill  the  immense 
extent,  and  to  comprehend  the  infinite  variety  of  nature.  I 
recommend  neither  self-dependence  nor  plagiarism.  I  ad- 
vise you  only  to  take  that  assistance  which  every  human 
being  wants,  and  which,  as  appears  from  the  examples  that 
have  been  given,  the  greatest  painters  have  not  disdained 
to  accept.  Let  me  add,  that  the  diligence  required  in  the 
search,  and  the  exertion  subsequent  in  accommodating  those 
ideas  to  your  own  purpose,  is  a  business  which  idleness  will 
not,  and  ignorance  can  not,  perform.  But  in  order  more 
distinctly  to  explain  what  kind  of  borrowing  I  mean,  when 
I  recommend  so  anxiously  the  study  of  the  works  of  great 
masters,  let  us,  for  a  minute,  return  again  to  Raffaelle,  con- 
sider his  method  of  practice,  and  endeavor  to  imitate  him, 
in  his  manner  of  imitating  others. 

The  two  figures  of  St.  Paul  which  I  lately  mentioned, 
are  so  nobly  conceived  by  Masaccio,  that  perhaps  it  was 
not  in  the  power  even  of  Raffaelle  himself  to  raise  and  im- 
prove them,  nor  has  he  attempted  it ;  but  he  has  had  the 
address  to  change  in  some  measure  without  diminishing  the 
grandeur  of  their  character;  he  has  substituted,  in  the 
place  of  a  serene  composed  dignity,  that  animated  expres- 
sion which  was  necessary  to  the  more  active  employment 
he  assigned  them. 

In  the  same  manner  he  has  given  more  animation  to 
the  figure  of  Sergius  Paulus,  and  to  that  which  is  intro- 
duced in  the  picture  of  St.  Paul  preaching,  of  which  little 
more  than  hints  are  given  by  Masaccio,  which  Kaffaelle  has 
finished.    The  closing  the  eyes  of  this  figure,  which  in  Ma- 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


221 


saccio  might  be  easily  mistaken  for  sleeping,  is  not  in  the 
least  ambiguous  in  the  Cartoon :  his  eyes  indeed  are  closed, 
but  they  are  closed  with  such  vehemence,  that  the  agita- 
tion of  a  mind  perplexed  in  the  extreme  is  seen  at  the  first 
glance  ;  but  what  is  most  extraordinary,  and  I  think  par- 
ticularly to  be  admired,  is,  that  the  same  idea  is  continued 
through  the  whole  figure,  even  to  the  drapery,  which  is  so 
closely  muffled  about  him,  that  even  his  hands  are  not 
seen;  by  this  happy  correspondence  between  the  expres- 
sion of  the  countenance,  and  the  disposition  of  the  parts, 
the  figure  appears  to  think  from  head  to  foot.  Men  of 
superior  talents  alone  are  capable  of  thus  using  and  adapt- 
ing other  men's  minds  to  their  own  purposes,  or  are  able 
to  make  out  and  finish  what  was  only  in  the  original  a  hint 
or  imperfect  conception.  A  readiness  in  taking  such  hints, 
which  escape  the  dull  and  ignorant,  makes  in  my  opinion 
no  inconsiderable  part  of  that  faculty  of  the  mind  which  is 
called  Genius. 

It  often  happens  that  hints  may  be  taken  and  employed 
in  a  situation  totally  different  from  that  in  which  they  were 
originally  employed.  There  is  a  figure  of  a  Bacchante 
leaning  backward,  her  head  thrown  quite  behind  her,  which 
seems  to  be  a  favorite  invention,  as  it  is  so  frequently  re- 
peated in  basso-relievos,  cameos,  and  intaglios;  it  is  in- 
tended to  express  an  enthusiastic  frantic  kind  of  joy.  This 
figure  Baccio  Bandinelli,  in  a  drawing  that  I  have  of  that 
Master  of  the  Descent  from  the  Cross,  has  adopted  (and  he 
knew  very  well  what  was  worth  borrowing)  for  one  of  the 
Marys,  to  express  frantic  agony  of  grief.  It  is  curious  to 
observe,  and  it  is  certainly  true,  that  the  extremes  of  con- 
trary passions  are  with  very  little  variation  expressed  by 
the  same  action. 

19* 


222 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


If  I  were  to  recommend  method  in  any  part  of  the 
study  of  a  Painter,  it  would  he  in  regard  to  invention ;  that 
young  Students  should  not  presume  to  think  themselves 
qualified  to  invent,  till  they  were  acquainted  with  those 
stores  of  invention  the  world  already  possesses,  and  had  by 
that  means  accumulated  sufficient  materials  for  the  mind 
to  work  with.  It  would  certainly  be  no  improper  method 
of  forming  the  mind  of  a  young  artist,  to  begin  with  such 
exercises  as  the  Italians  call  a  Pasticcio  composition  of  the 
different  excellencies  which  are  dispersed  in  all  other  works 
of  the  same  kind.  It  is  not  supposed  that  he  is  to  stop 
here,  but  that  he  is  to  acquire  by  this  means  the  art  of 
selecting,  first  what  is  truly  excellent  in  Art,  and  then  what 
is  still  more  excellent  in  Nature ;  a  task  which,  without  this 
previous  study,  he  will  be  but  ill  qualified  to  perform. 

The  doctrine  which  is  here  advanced,  is  acknowledged 
to  be  new,  and  to  many  may  appear  strange.  But  I  only 
demand  for  it  the  reception  of  a  stranger ;  a  favorable  and 
attentive  consideration,  without  that  entire  confidence  which 
might  be  claimed  under  authoritative  recommendation.  • 

After  you  have  taken  a  figure,  or  any  idea  of  a  figure, 
from  any  of  those  great  Painters,  there  is  another  operation 
still  remaining,  which  I  hold  to  be  indispensably  necessary, 
that  is,  never  to  neglect  finishing  from  nature  every  part  of 
the  work.  What  is  taken  from  a  model,  though  the  first 
idea  may  have  been  suggested  by  another,  you  have  a  just 
right  to  consider  as  your  own  property.  And  here  I  can 
not  avoid  mentioning  a  circumstance  in  placing  the  model, 
though  to  some  it  may  appear  trifling.  It  is  better  to  pos- 
sess the  model  with  the  attitude  you  require,  than  to  place 
him  with  your  own  hands  :  by  this  means  it  happens  often 
that  the  model  puts  himself  in  an  action  superior  to  your 


• 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE.  223 

own  imagination.  It  is  a  great  matter  to  be  in  the  way  of 
accident,  and  to  be  watchful  and  ready  to  take  advantage 
of  it :  besides,  when  you  fix  the  position  of  a  model,  there 
is  danger  of  putting  him  in  an  attitude  into  which  no  man 
would  naturally  fall.  This  extends  even  to  drapery.  We 
must  be  caurious  in  touching  and  altering  a  fold  of  the  stuff, 
which  serves  as  a  model,  for  fear  of  giving  it  inadvertently 
a  forced  form ;  and  it  is  perhaps  better  to  take  the  chance 
of  another  casual  throw,  than  to  alter  the  position  in  which 
it  was  at  first  accidentally  cast. 

Rembrandt,  in  order  to  take  the  advantage  of  accident, 
appears  often  to  have  used  the  pallet-knife  to  lay  his  colors 
on  the  canvass,  instead  of  the  pencil.  Whether  it  is  the 
knife  or  any  other  instrument,  it  suffices  if  it  is  something 
that  does  not  follow  exactly  the  will.  Accident  in  the  hands 
of  an  artist  who  knows  how  to  take  the  advantage  of  its 
hints,  will  often  produce  bold  and  capricious  beauties  of 
handling  and  facility,  such  as  he  would  not  have  thought 
of,  or  ventured,  with  his  pencil,  under  the  regular  restraint 
of  his  hand.  However,  this  is  fit  only  on  occasions  where 
no  correctness  of  form  is  required,  such  as  clouds,  stumps 
of  trees,  rocks,  or  broken  ground.  Works  produced  in  an 
accidental  manner  will  have  the  same  free  unrestrained  air 
as  the  works  of  nature,  whose  particular  combinations  seem 
to  depend  upon  accident. 

I  again  repeat,  you  are  never  to  lose  sight  of  nature ; 
the  instant  you  do,  you  are  all  abroad,  at  the  mercy  of  every 
gust  of  fashion,  without  knowing  or  seeing  the  point  to 
which  you  ought  to  steer.  Whatever  trips  you  make,  you 
must  still  have  nature  in  your  eye.  Such  deviations  as  art 
necessarily  requires,  I  hope  in  a  future  Discourse  to  be  able 
to  explain.    In  the  mean  time,  let  me  recommend  to  you, 


224 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


not  to  have  too  great  dependence  on  your  practice  or  mem- 
ory, however  strong  those  impressions  may  have  been  which 
are  there  deposited.  They  are  for  ever  wearing  out,  and 
will  be  at  last  obliterated,  unless  they  are  continually  re- 
freshed and  repaired. 

It  is  not  uncommon  to  meet  with  artists  who,  from  a 
long  neglect  of  cultivating  this  necessary  intimacy  with 
Nature,  do  not  even  know  her  when  they  see  her ;  she  ap- 
pearing a  stranger  to  them,  from  their  being  so  long  habit- 
uated to  their  own  representation  of  her.  I  have  heard 
Painters  acknowledge,  though  in  that  acknowledgment  no 
degradation  of  themselves  was  intended,  that  they  could  do 
better  without  Nature  than  with  her ;  or,  as  they  expressed 
it  themselves,  that  it  only  put  them  out.  A  painter  with 
such  ideas  and  such  habits,  is  indeed  in  a  most  hopeless 
state.  The  art  of  seeing  Nature,  or,  in  other  words,  the 
art  of  using  Models,  is  in  reality  the  great  object,  the  point 
to  which  all  our  studies  are  directed.  As  for  the  power 
of  being  able  to  do  tolerably  well,  from  practice  alone,  let 
it  be  valued  according  to  its  worth.  But  I  do  not  see  in 
what  manner  it  can  be  sufficient  for  the  production  of  cor- 
rect, excellent,  and  finished  Pictures.  Works  deserving  this 
character  never  were  produced,  nor  ever  will  arise,  from 
memory  alone ;  and  I  will  venture  to  say,  that  an  artist  who 
brings  to  his  work  a  mind  tolerably  furnished  with  the  gen- 
eral principles  of  Art,  and  a  taste  formed  upon  the  works  of 
good  Artists,  in  short,  who  knows  in  what  excellence  con- 
sists, will,  with  the  assistance  of  Models,  which  we  will 
likewise  suppose  he  has  learnt  the  art  of  using,  be  an  over- 
match for  the  greatest  painter  that  ever  lived  who  should 
be  debarred  such  advantages. 

Our  neighbors,  the  French,  are  much  in  this  practice  of 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


225 


extempore  invention,  and  their  dexterity  is  such  as  even  to 
excite  admiration,  if  not  envy :  but  how  rarely  can  this 
praise  be  given  to  their  finished  pictures ! 

The  late  Director  of  their  Academy,  Boucher,  was  emi- 
nent in  this  way.  When  I  visited  him  some  years  since  in 
France,  I  found  him  at  work  on  a  very  large  Picture,  with- 
out drawings  or  models  of  any  kind.  On  my  remarking 
this  particular  circumstance,  he  said,  when  he  was  young, 
studying  his  art,  he  found  it  necessary  to  use  models ;  but 
he  had  left  them  off  for  many  years. 

Such  Pictures  as  this  was,  and  such  as  I  fear  always  will 
be  produced  by  those  who  work  solely  from  practice  or 
memory,  may  be  a  convincing  proof  of  the  necessity  of  the 
conduct  which  I  have  recommended.  However,  in  justice 
I  can  not  quit  this  Painter  without  adding,  that  in  the  for- 
mer part  of  his  life,  when  he  was  in  the  habit  of  having  re- 
course to  nature,  he  was  not  without  a  considerable  degree 
of  merit, — enough  to  make  half  the  Painters  of  his  country 
his  imitators ;  he  had  often  grace  and  beauty,  and  good 
skill  in  composition ;  but  I  think  all  under  the  influence  of 
a  bad  taste  :  his  imitators  are  indeed  abominable. 

Those  Artists  who  have  quitted  the  service  of  nature, 
(whose  service,  when  well  understood,  is  perfect  freedom,) 
and  have  put  themselves  under  the  direction  of  I  know  not 
what  capricious  fantastical  mistress,  who  fascinates  and  over- 
powers their  whole  mind,  and  from  whose  dominion  there 
are  no  hopes  of  their  being  ever  reclaimed,  (since  they  ap- 
pear perfectly  satisfied,  and  not  at  all  conscious  of  their  for- 
lorn situation,)  like  the  transformed  followers  of  Comus, — 

Not  once  perceive  their  foul  disfigurement ; 
But  boast  themselves  more  comely  than  before. 

Methinks,  such  men,  who  have  found  out  so  short  a 


226 


THE  TWELFTH  DISCOURSE. 


path,  have  no  reason  to  complain  of  the  shortness  of  life, 
and  the  extent  of  art ;  since  life  is  so  much  longer  than  is 
wanted  for  their  improvement,  or  indeed  is  necessary  for 
the  accomplishment  of  their  idea  of  perfection.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  who  recurs  to  nature,  at  every  recurrence  renews 
his  strength.  The  rules  of  art  he  is  never  likely  to  forget ; 
they  are  few  and  simple  ;  but  nature  is  refined,  subtle,  and 
infinitely  various,  beyond  the  power  and  retention  of  mem- 
ory ;  it  is  necessary,  therefore,  to  have  continual  recourse  to 
her.  In  this  intercourse,  there  is  no  end  of  his  improve- 
ment ;  the  longer  he  lives,  the  nearer  he  approaches  to  the 
true  and  perfect  idea  of  art. 


DISCOURSE  XIII. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  11,  1786. 

Art  not  merely  Imitation,  but  under  the  direction  of  the  Imagination. — In  what 
manner  Poetry,  Painting,  Acting,  Gardening,  and  Architecture,  depart  from 
Nature. 

GENTLEMEN, 

To  discover  beauties,  or  to  point  out  faults,  in  the  works 
of  celebrated  Masters,  and  to  compare  the  conduct  of  one 
Artist  with  another,  is  certainly  no  mean  or  inconsidera- 
ble part  of  criticism;  but  this  is  still  no  more  than  to 
know  the  art  through  the  Artist.  This  test  of  investiga- 
tion must  have  two  capital  defects;  it  must  be  narrow,  and 
it  must  be  uncertain.  To  enlarge  the  boundaries  of  the 
Art  of  Painting,  as  well  as  to  fix  its  principles,  it  will  be 
necessary  that  that  art,  and  those  principles,  should  be  con- 
sidered in  their  correspondence  with  the  principles  of  the 
other  arts,  which,  like  this,  address  themselves  primarily 
and  principally  to  the  imagination.  When  those  connected 
and  kindred  principles  are  brought  together  to  be  com- 
pared, another  comparison  will  grow  out  of  this ;  that  is, 
the  comparison  of  them  all  with  those  of  human  nature, 
from  whence  arts  derive  the  materials  upon  which  they  are 
to  produce  their  effects. 

When  this  comparison  of  art  with  art,  and  of  all  arts 
with  the  nature  of  man,  is  once  made  with  success,  our 
guiding  lines  are  as  well  ascertained  and  established  as 
they  can  be  in  matters  of  this  description. 


228 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


This,  as  it  is  the  highest  style  of  criticism,  is  at  the 
same  time  the  soundest ;  for  it  refers  to  the  eternal  and 
immutable  nature  of  things. 

You  are  not  to  imagine  that  I  mean  to  open  to  you 
at  large,  or  to  recommend  to  your  research,  the  whole  of 
this  vast  field  of  science.  It  is  certainly  much  above  my 
faculties  to  reach  it :  and  though  it  may  not  be  above 
yours  to  comprehend  it  fully,  if  it  were  fully  and  properly 
brought  before  you,  yet  perhaps  the  most  perfect  criticism 
requires  habits  of  speculation  and  abstraction,  not  very 
consistent  with  the  employment  which  ought  to  occupy, 
and  the  habits  of  mind  which  ought  to  prevail  in  a  prac- 
tical Artist.  I  only  point  out  to  you  these  things,  that 
when  you  do  criticise,  (as  all  who  work  on  a  plan  will 
criticise  more  or  less,)  your  criticism  may  be  built  on  the 
foundation  of  true  principles ;  and  that  though  you  may 
not  always  travel  a  great  way,  the  way  that  you  do  travel 
may  be  the  right  road. 

I  observe,  as  a  fundamental  ground,  common  to  all  the 
Arts  with  which  we  have  any  concern  in  this  discourse, 
that  they  address  themselves  only  to  two  faculties  of  the 
mind,  its  imagination  and  its  sensibility. 

All  theories  which  attempt  to  direct  or  to  control  the 
Art,  upon  any  principles  falsely  called  rational,  which  we 
form  to  ourselves  upon  a  supposition  of  what  ought  in 
reason  to  be  the  end  or  means  of  Art,  independent  of  the 
known  first  effect  produced  by  objects  on  the  imagination, 
must  be  false  and  delusive.  For  though  it  may  appear 
bold  to  say  it,  the  imagination  is  here  the  residence  of 
truth.  If  the  imagination  be  affected,  the  conclusion  is 
fairly  drawn ;  if  it  be  not  affected,  the  reasoning  is  erro- 
neous, because  the  end  is  not  obtained;  the  effect  itself 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


229 


being  the  test,  and  the  only  test,  of  the  truth  and  efficacy 
of  the  means. 

There  is  in  the  commerce  of  life,  as  in  Art,  a  sagacity 
which  is  far  from  being  contradictory  to  right  reason,  and 
is  superior  to  any  occasional  exercise  of  that  faculty;  which 
supersedes  it ;  and  does  not  wait  for  the  slow  progress  of 
deduction,  but  goes  at  once,  by  what  appears  a  kind  of  in- 
tuition, to  the  conclusion.  A  man  endowed  with  this 
faculty,  feels  and  acknowledges  the  truth,  though  it  is  not 
always  in  his  power,  perhaps,  to  give  a  reason  for  it; 
because  he  can  not  recollect  and  bring  before  him  all  the 
materials  that  gave  birth  to  his  opinion ;  for  very  many 
and  very  intricate  considerations  may  unite  to  form  the 
principle,  even  of  small  and  minute  parts,  involved  in,  or 
dependent  on  a  great  system  of  things  :  though  these  in 
process  of  time  are  forgotten,  the  right  impression  still 
remains  fixed  in  his  mind. 

This  impression  is  the  result  of  the  accumulated  expe- 
rience of  our  whole  life,  and  has  been  collected,  we  do  not 
always  know  how,  or  when.  But  this  mass  of  collective 
observation,  however  acquired,  ought  to  prevail  over  that 
reason,  which  however  powerfully  exerted  on  any  par- 
ticular occasion,  will  probably  comprehend  but  a  partial 
view  of  the  subject;  and  our  conduct  in  life,  as  well  as  in 
the  Arts,  is,  or  ought  to  be,  generally  governed  by  this 
habitual  reason  :  it  is  our  happiness  that  we  are  enabled  to 
draw  on  such  funds.  If  we  were  obliged  to  enter  into  a 
theoretical  deliberation  on  every  occasion,  before  we  act, 
life  would  be  at  a  stand,  and  Art  would  be  impracticable. 

It  appears  to  me,  therefore,  that  our  first  thoughts, 
that  is,  the  effect  which  any  thing  produces  on  our  minds, 
on  its  first  appearance,  is  never  to  be  forgotten ;  and  it 
20 


230 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


demands  for  that  reason,  because  it  is  the  first,  to  be  laid 
up  with  care.  If  this  be  not  done,  the  Artist  may  happen 
to  impose  on  himself  by  partial  reasoning ;  by  a  cold  con- 
sideration of  those  animated  thoughts  which  proceed,  not 
perhaps  from  caprice  or  rashness,  (as  he  may  afterwards 
conceit,)  but  from  the  fullness  of  his  mind,  enriched  with 
the  copious  stores  of  all  the  various  inventions  which  he 
had  ever  seen,  or  had  ever  passed  in  his  mind.  These 
ideas  are  infused  into  his  design,  without  any  conscious 
effort ;  but  if  he  be  not  on  his  guard,  he  may  reconsider 
and  correct  them,  till  the  whole  matter  is  reduced  to  a 
common-place  invention. 

This  is  sometimes  the  effect  of  what  I  mean  to  caution 
you  against ;  that  is  to  say,  an  unfounded  distrust  of  the 
imagination  and  feeling,  in  favor  of  narrow,  partial,  con- 
fined, argumentative  theories ;  and  of  principles  that  seem 
to  apply  to  the  design  in  hand ;  without  considering  those 
general  impressions  on  the  fancy  in  which  real  principles 
of  sound  reason,  and  of  much  more  weight  and  impor- 
tance, are  involved,  and,  as  it  were,  lie  hid,  under  the 
appearance  of  a  sort  of  vulgar  sentiment. 

Reason,  without  doubt,  must  ultimately  determine 
every  thing ;  at  this  minute  it  is  required  to  inform  us 
when  that  very  reason  is  to  give  way  to  feeling. 

Though  I  have  often  spoken  of  that  mean  conception 
of  our  art  which  confines  it  to  mere  imitation,  I  must  add, 
that  it  may  be  narrowed  to  such  a  mere  matter  of  experi- 
ment, as  to  exclude  from  it  the  application  of  science, 
which  alone  gives  dignity  and  compass  to  any  art.  But  to 
find  proper  foundations  for  science  is  neither  to  narrow  or 
to  vulgarise  it;  and  this  is  sufficiently  exemplified  in  the 
success  of  experimental  philosophy.    It  is  the  false  system 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


231 


of  reasoning,  grounded  on  a  partial  view  of  things,  against 
which  I  would  most  earnestly  guard  you.  And  I  do  it  the 
rather,  because  those  narrow  theories,  so  coincident  with 
the  poorest  and  most  miserable  practices,  and  which  are 
adopted  to  give  it  countenance,  have  not  had  their  origin 
in  the  poorest  minds,  but  in  the  mistakes,  or  possibly  in 
the  mistaken  interpretations,  of  great  and  commanding 
authorities.  We  are  not,  therefore,  in  this  case,  misled  by 
feeling,  but  by  false  speculation. 

When  such  a  man  as  Plato  speaks  of  Painting  as  only 
an  imitative  art,  and  that  our  pleasure  proceeds  from 
observing  and  acknowledging  the  truth  of  the  imitation,  I 
think  he  misleads  us  by  a  partial  theory.  It  is  in  this 
poor,  partial,  and  so  far,  false  view  of  the  art,  that  Cardi- 
nal Bembo  has  chosen  to  distinguish  even  F^afFaelle  him- 
self, whom  our  enthusiasm  honors  with  the  name  of 
Divine.  The  same  sentiment  is  adopted  by  Pope  in  his 
epitaph  on  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller;  and  he  turns  the  pane- 
gyric solely  on  imitation,  as  it  is  a  sort  of  deception. 

I  shall  not  think  my  time  misemployed,  if  by  any 
means  I  may  contribute  to  confirm  your  opinion  of  what 
ought  to  be  the  object  of  your  pursuit;  because,  though 
the  best  critics  must  always  have  exploded  this  strange 
idea,  yet  I  know  that  there  is  a  disposition  towards  a  per- 
petual recurrence  to  it,  on  account  of  its  simplicity  and 
superficial  plausibility.  For  this  reason  I  shall  beg  leave 
to  lay  before  you  a  few  thoughts  on  this  subject;  to  throw 
out  some  hints  that  may  lead  your  minds  to  an  opinion, 
(which  I  take  to  be  the  truth,)  that  Painting  is  not  only  to 
be  considered  as  an  imitation,  operating  by  deception,  but 
that  it  is,  and  ought  to  be,  in  many  points  of  view,  and 
strictly  speaking,  no  imitation  at  all  of  external  nature. 


282 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


Perhaps  it  ought  to  be  as  far  removed  from  the  vulgar  idea 
of  imitation,  as  the  refined  civilized  state  in  which  we  live, 
is  removed  from  a  gross  state  of  nature ;  and  those  who 
3 lave  not  cultivated  their  imaginations,  which  the  majority 
of  mankind  certainly  have  not,  may  be  said,  in  regard  to 
arts,  to  continue  in  this  state  of  nature.  Such  men  will 
always  prefer  imitation  to  that  excellence  which  is  ad- 
dressed to  another  faculty  that  they  do  not  possess  j  but 
these  are  not  the  persons  to  whom  a  Painter  is  to  look,  any 
more  than  a  judge  of  morals  and  manners  ought  to  refer 
controverted  points  upon  those  subjects  to  the  opinions  of 
people  taken  from  the  banks  of  the  Ohio,  or  from  New 
Holland. 

It  is  the  lowest  style  only  of  arts,  whether  of  Painting, 
Poetry,  or  Music,  that  may  be  said,  in  the  vulgar  sense,  to 
be  naturally  pleasing.  The  higher  efforts  of  those  arts,  we 
know  by  experience,  do  not  affect  minds  wholly  unculti- 
vated. This  refined  taste  is  the  consequence  of  edueation 
and  habit :  we  are  born  only  with  a  capacity  of  entertain- 
ing this  refinement,  as  we  are  born  with  a  disposition  to 
receive  and  obey  all  the  rules  and  regulations  of  society; 
and  so  far  it  may  be  said  to  be  natural  to  us,  and  no 
further. 

What  has  been  said,  may  show  the  Artist  how  neces- 
sary it  is,  when  he  looks  about  him  for  the  advice  and 
criticism  of  his  friends,  to  make  some  distinction  of  the 
character,  taste,  experience,  and  observation  in  this  Art,  of 
those,  from  whom  it  is  received.  An  ignorant  uneducated 
man  may,  like  Apelles'  critic,  be  a  competent  judge  of  the 
truth  of  the  representation  of  a  sandal ;  or,  to  go  somewhat 
higher,  like  Moliere's  old  woman,  may  decide  upon  what  is 
nature,  in  regard  to  comic  humor ;  but  a  critic  in  the  higher 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


233 


style  of  art  ought  to  possess  the  same  refined  taste  which 
directed  the  Artist  in  his  work. 

To  illustrate  this  principle  by  a  comparison  with  other 
Arts,  I  shall  now  produce  some  instances  to  show  that  they, 
as  well  as  our  own  Art,  renounce  the  narrow  idea  of  nature, 
and  the  narrow  theories  derived  from  that  mistaken  prin- 
ciple, and  apply  to  that  reason  only  which  informs  us  not 
what  imitation  is — a  natural  representation  of  a  given 
object — but  what  it  is  natural  for  the  imagination  to  be 
delighted  with.  And  perhaps  there  is  no  better  way  of 
acquiring  this  knowledge,  than  by  this  kind  of  analogy : 
each  art  will  corroborate  and  mutually  reflect  the  truth  on 
the  other.  Such  a  kind  of  juxtaposition  may  likewise  have 
this  use,  that  whilst  the  Artist  is  amusing  himself  in  the 
contemplation  of  other  Arts,  he  may  habitually  transfer 
the  principles  of  those  Arts  to  that  which  he  professes : 
which  ought  to  be  always  present  to  his  mind,  and  to  which 
every  thing  is  to  be  referred. 

So  far  is  Art  from  being  derived  from,  or  having  any 
immediate  intercourse  with,  particular  nature  as  its  model, 
that  there  are  many  Arts  that  set  out  with  a  professed  de- 
viation from  it. 

This  is  certainly  not  so  exactly  true  in  regard  to  Paint- 
ing and  Sculpture.  Our  elements  are  laid  in  gross  com- 
mon nature — an  exact  imitation  of  what  is  before  us  :  but 
when  we  advance  to  the  higher  state,  we  consider  this 
power  of  imitation,  though  first  in  the  order  of  acquisition, 
as  by  no  means  the  highest  in  the  scale  of  perfection. 

Poetry  addresses  itself  to  the  same  faculties  and  the 
same  dispositions  as  Painting,  though  by  different  means. 
The  object  of  both  is  to  accommodate  itself  to  all  the  natu- 
ral propensities  and  inclinations  of  the  mind.    The  very 
20* 


234 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


existence  of  Poetry  depends  on  the  license  it  assumes  of 
deviating  from  actual  nature,  in  order  to  gratify  natural  pro- 
pensities by  other  means,  which  are  found  by  experience 
full  as  capable  of  affording  such  gratification.  It  sets  out 
with  a  language  in  the  highest  degree  artificial,  a  construc- 
tion of  measured  words,  such  as  never  is,  nor  ever  was,  used 
by  man.  Let  this  measure  be  what  it  may,  whether  hex- 
ameter or  any  other  metre  used  in  Latin  or  Greek, — or 
Rhyme,  or  Blank  Verse  varied  with  pauses  and  accents,  in 
modern  languages, — they  are  all  equally  removed  from  na- 
ture, and  equally  a  violation  of  common  speech.  When 
this  artificial  mode  has  been  established  as  the  vehicle  of 
sentiment,  there  is  another  principle  in  the  human  mind,  to 
which  the  work  must  be  referred,  which  still  renders  it  more 
artificial,  carries  it  still  further  from  common  nature,  and 
deviates  only  to  render  it  more  perfect.  That  principle  is 
the  sense  of  congruity,  coherence,  and  consistency,  which  is 
a  real  existing  principle  in  man ;  and  it  must  be  gratified. 
Therefore,  having  once  adopted  a  style  and  a  measure  not 
found  in  common  discourse,  it  is  required  that  the  senti- 
ments also  should  be  in  the  same  proportion  elevated  above 
common  nature,  from  the  necessity  of  there  being  an  agree- 
ment of  the  parts  among  themselves,  that  one  uniform 
whole  may  be  produced. 

To  correspond,  therefore,  with  this  general  system  of 
deviation  from  nature,  the  manner  in  which  poetry  is  offered 
to  the  ear,  the  tone  in  which  it  is  recited,  should  be  as  far 
removed  from  the  tone  of  conversation,  as  the  words  of 
which  that  Poetry  is  composed.  This  naturally  suggests 
the  idea  of  modulating  the  voice  by  art,  which  I  suppose 
may  be  considered  as  accomplished  to  the  highest  degree  of 
excellence  in  the  recitative  of  the  Italian  Opera ;  as  we  may 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


235 


conjecture  it  was  in  the  Chorus  that  attended  the  ancient 
drama.  And  though  the  most  violent  passions,  the  highest 
distress,  even  death  itself,  are  expressed  in  singing  or  reci- 
tative, I  would  not  admit  as  sound  criticism  the  condemna- 
tion of  such  exhibitions  on  account  of  their  being  un- 
natural. 

If  it  is  natural  for  our  senses,  and  our  imaginations,  to 
be  delighted  with  singing,  with  instrumental  music,  with 
poetry,  and  with  graceful  action,  taken  separately  (none  of 
them  being  in  the  vulgar  sense  natural,  even  in  that  sepa- 
rate state  0  it  is  conformable  to  experience,  and  therefore 
agreeable  to  reason  as  connected  and  referred  to  experience, 
that  we  should  also  be  delighted  with  this  union  of  music, 
poetry,  and  graceful  action,  joined  to  every  circumstance  of 
pomp  and  magnificence  calculated  to  strike  the  senses  of 
the  spectator.  Shall  reason  stand  in  the  way,  and  tell  us 
that  we  ought  not  to  like  what  we  know  we  do  like,  and 
prevent  us  from  feeling  the  full  effect  of  this  complicated 
exertion  of  art  ?  This  is  what  I  would  understand  by  poets 
and  painters  being  allowed  to  dare  every  thing ;  for  what 
can  be  more  daring,  than  accomplishing  the  purpose  and 
end  of  art,  by  a  complication  of  means,  none  of  which  have 
their  archetypes  in  actual  nature  ? 

So  far,  therefore,  is  servile  imitation  from  being  neces- 
sary, that  whatever  is  familiar,  or  in  any  way  reminds  us 
of  what  we  see  and  hear  every  day,  perhaps  does  not  belong 
to  the  higher  provinces  of  art,  either  in  poetry  or  painting. 
The  mind  is  to  be  transported,  as  Shakspeare  expresses  it, 
beyond  the  ignorant  present,  to  ages  past.  Another  and  a 
higher  order  of  beings  is  supposed ;  and  to  those  beings 
every  thing  which  is  introduced  into  the  work  must  corres- 
pond.   Of  this  conduct,  under  these  circumstances,  the 


236 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


Roman  and  Florentine  schools  afford  sufficient  examples. 
Their  style  by  this  means  is  raised  and  elevated  above  all 
others ;  and  by  the  same  means  the  compass  of  art  itself  is 
enlarged. 

We  often  see  grave  and  great  subjects  attempted  by 
artists  of  another  school;  who  though  excellent  in  the  lower 
class  of  art,  proceeding  on  the  principles  which  regulate 
that  class,  and  not  recollecting,  or  not  knowing,  that  they 
were  to  address  themselves  to  another  faculty  of  the  mind, 
have  become  perfectly  ridiculous. 

The  picture  which  I  have  at  present  in  my  thoughts  is 
a  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia,  painted  by  Jan  Steen,  a  painter  of 
whom  I  have  formerly  had  occasion  to  speak  with  the  high- 
est approbation;  and  even  in  this  picture,  the  subject  of 
which  is  by  no  means  adapted  to  his  genius,  there  is  nature 
and  expression ;  but  it  is  such  expression,  and  the  counte- 
nances are  so  familiar,  and  consequently  so  vulgar,  and  the 
whole  accompanied  with  such  finery  of  silks  and  velvets, 
that  one  would  be  almost  tempted  to  doubt  whether  the 
artist  did  not  purposely  intend  to  burlesque  his  subject. 

Instances  of  the  same  kind  we  frequently  see  in  poetry. 
Parts  of  Hobbes'  translation  of  Homer  are  remembered  and 
repeated  merely  for  the  familiarity  and  meanness  of  their 
phraseology,  so  ill  corresponding  with  the  ideas  which  ought 
to  have  been  expressed,  and  as  I  conceive,  with  the  style 
of  the  original. 

We  may  proceed  in  the  same  manner  through  the  com- 
paratively inferior  branches  of  art.  There  are,  in  works  of 
that  class,  the  same  distinction  of  a  higher  and  a  lower 
style ;  and  they  take  their  rank  and  degree  in  proportion  as 
the  artist  departs  more,  or  less,  from  common  nature,  and 
makes  it  an  object  of  his  attention  to  strike  the  imagination 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


237 


of  the  spectator  by  ways  belonging  especially  to  art, — un- 
observed and  untaught  out  of  the  school  of  its  practice. 

If  our  judgments  are  to  be  directed  by  narrow,  vulgar, 
untaught,  or  rather  ill-taught,  reason,  we  must  prefer  a 
portrait  by  Denner,  or  any  other  high  finisher,  to  those  of 
Titian  or  Vandyck ;  and  a  landscape  of  Vanderheyden  to 
those  of  Titian  or  Rubens;  for  they  are  certainly  more 
exact  representations  of  nature. 

If  we  suppose  a  view  of  nature  represented  with  all  the 
truth  of  the  camera  obscura,  and  the  same  scene  represented 
by  a  great  artist,  how  little  and  mean  will  the  one  appear 
in  comparison  of  the  other,  where  no  superiority  is  supposed 
from  the  choice  of  the  subject !  The  scene  shall  be  the 
same,  the  difference  only  will  be  in  the  manner  in  which  it 
is  presented  to  the  eye.  With  what  additional  superiority 
then  will  the  same  artist  appear  when  he  has  the  power  of 
selecting  his  materials  as  well  as  elevating  his  style  ?  Like 
Nicolas  Poussin,  he  transports  us  to  the  environs  of  ancient 
Rome,  with  all  the  objects  which  a  literary  education  makes 
so  precious  and  interesting  to  man ;  or,  like  Sebastian 
Bourdon,  he  leads  us  to  the  dark  antiquity  of  the  pyramids 
of  Egypt;  or,  like  Claude  Lorrain,  he  conducts  us  to  the 
tranquillity  of  Arcadian  scenes  and  fairy-land. 

Like  the  history-painter,  a  painter  of  landscapes  in  this 
style  and  with  this  conduct,  sends  the  imagination  back  into 
antiquity  ;  and,  like  the  poet,  he  makes  the  elements  sym- 
pathise with  his  subject :  whether  the  clouds  roll  in  volumes 
like  those  of  Titian  or  Salvator  Rosa, — or,  like  those  of 
Claude,  are  gilded  with  the  setting  sun ;  whether  the  moun- 
tains have  sudden  and  bold  projections,  or  are  gently  sloped; 
whether  the  branches  of  his  trees  shoot  out  abruptly  in 
right  angles  from  their  trunks,  or  follow  each  other  with 


238  THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 

only  a  gentle  inclination.  All  these  circumstances  contri- 
bute to  the  general  character  of  the  work,  whether  it  be  of 
the  elegant,  or  of  the  more  sublime  kind.  If  we  add  to 
this  the  powerful  materials  of  lightness  and  darkness,  over 
which  the  artist  has  complete  dominion,  to  vary  and  dispose 
them  as  he  pleases ;  to  diminish  or  increase  them  as  will 
best  suit  his  purpose,  and  correspond  to  the  general  idea  of 
his  work ;  a  landscape  thus  conducted,  under  th«  influence 
of  a  poetical  mind  will  have  the  same  superiority  over  the 
more  ordinary  and  common  views,  as  Milton's  Allegro  and 
Pcnseroso  have  over  a  cold  prosaic  narration  or  description ; 
and  such  a  picture  would  make  a  more  forcible  impression 
on  the  mind  than  the  real  scenes,  were  they  presented  be- 
fore us. 

If  we  look  abroad  to  other  arts,  we  may  observe  the 
same  distinction,  the  same  division  into  two  classes ;  each 
of  them  acting  under  the  influence  of  two  different  princi- 
ples, in  which  the  one  follows  nature,  the  other  varies  it, 
and  sometimes  departs  from  it. 

The  theatre,  which  is  said  to  hold  the  mirror  up  to  na- 
ture, comprehends  both  those  ideas.  The  lower  kind  of 
comedy,  or  farce,  like  the  inferior  style  of  painting,  the  more 
naturally  it  is  represented,  the  better ;  but  the  higher  ap- 
pears to  me  to  aim  no  more  at  imitation,  so  far  as  it  belongs 
to  any  thing  like  deception,  or  to  expect  that  the  spectators 
should  think  that  the  events  there  represented  are  really 
passing  before  them,  than  Kaffaelle  in  his  Cartoons,  or 
Poussin  in  his  Sacraments,  expected  it  to  be  believed,  even 
for  a  moment,  that  what  they  exhibited  were  real  figures. 

For  want  of  this  distinction,  the  world  is  filled  with  false 
criticism.  Raffaelle  is  praised  for  naturalness  and  decep- 
tion, which  he  certainly  has  not  accomplished,  and  as  cer- 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


239 


fcainly  never  intended;  and  our  late  great  actor,  Garrick, 
has  been  as  ignorantly  praised  by  his  friend  Fielding;  who 
doubtless  imagined  he  had  hit  upon  an  ingenious  device,  by 
introducing,  in  one  of  his  novels  (otherwise  a  work  of  the 
highest  merit,)  an  ignorant  man,  mistaking  Garrick's  repre- 
sentation of  a  scene  in  Hamlet  for  reality.  A  very  little 
reflection  will  convince  us,  that  there  is  not  one  circum- 
stance in  the  whole  scene  that  is  of  the  nature  of  deception. 
The  merit  and  excellence  of  Shakspcare,  and  of  Garrick, 
when  they  were  engaged  in  such  scenes,  is  of  a  different 
and  much  higher  kind.  But  what  adds  to  the  falsity  of 
this  intended  compliment,  is,  that  the  best  stage-represen- 
tation appears  even  more  unnatural  to  a  person  of  such  a 
character,  who  is  supposed  never  to  have  seen  a  play  before, 
than  it  does  to  those  who  have  had  a  habit  of  allowing  for 
those  necessary  deviations  from  nature  which  the  Art  re- 
quires. 

In  theatric  representation,  great  allowances  must  always 
be  made  for  the  place  in  which  the  exhibition  is  represented ; 
for  the  surrounding  company,  the  lighted  candles,  the  scenes 
visibly  shifted  in  your  sight,  and  the  language  of  blank 
verse,  so  different  from  common  English  ;  which  merely  as 
English  must  appear  surprising  in  the  mouths  of  Hamlet 
and  all  the  court  and  natives  of  Denmark.  These  allow- 
ances are  made ;  but  their  being  made  puts  an  end  to  all 
manner  of  deception  :  and  further  ;  we  know  that  the  more 
low,  illiterate,  and  vulgar  any  person  is,  the  less  he  will  be 
disposed  to  make  these  allowances,  and  of  course  to  be  de- 
ceived by  any  imitation  ;  the  things  in  which  the  trespass 
against  nature  and  common  probability  is  made  in  favor  of 
the  theatre,  being  quite  within  the  sphere  of  such  unin- 
formed men. 


240 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


Though  I  have  no  intention  of  entering  into  all  the 
circumstances  of  unnaturalness  in  theatrical  representa- 
tions I  must  observe  that  even  the  expression  of  violent 
passion  is  not  always  the  most  excellent  in  proportion  as  it 
is  the  most  natural;  so,  great  terror  and  such  disagreeable 
sensations  may  be  communicated  to  the  audience,  that  the 
balance  may  be  destroyed  by  which  pleasure  is  preserved, 
and  holds  its  predominancy  in  the  mind :  violent  distortion  of 
action,  harsh  screamings  of  the  voice,  however  great  the 
occasion,  or  however  natural  on  such  occasions,  are  there- 
fore not  admissible  in  the  theatric  art.  Many  of  these 
allowed  deviations  from  nature  arise  from  the  necessity 
which  there  is,  that  every  thing  should  be  raised  and  en- 
larged beyond  its  natural  state ;  that  the  full  effect  may 
come  home  to  the  spectator,  which  otherwise  would  be  lost 
in  the  comparatively  extensive  space  of  the  Theatre.  Hence 
the  deliberate  and  stately  step,  the  studied  grace  of  action, 
which  seems  to  enlarge  the  dimensions  of  the  actor,  and 
alone  to  fill  the  stage.  All  this  unnaturalness,  though  right 
and  proper  in  its  place,  would  appear  affected  and  ridiculous 
in  a  private  room :  quid  enim  deformius  quam  scenam  in 
vitam  transfer  re  ? 

And  here  I  must  observe,  and  I  believe  it  may  be  con- 
sidered as  a  general  rule,  that  no  Art  can  be  grafted  with 
success  on  another  art.  For  though  they  all  profess  the 
same  origin,  and  to  proceed  from  the  same  stock,  yet  each 
has  its  own  peculiar  modes  both  of  imitating  nature,  and  of 
deviating  from  it,  each  for  the  accomplishment  of  its  own 
particular  purpose.  These  deviations,  more  especially,  will 
not  bear  transplantation  to  another  soil. 

If  a  Painter  should  endeavor  to  copy  the  theatrical 
pomp  and  parade  of  dress,  and  attitude,  instead  of  that  sim- 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


241 


plicity,  which  is  not  a  greater  beauty  in  life  than  it  is  in 
Painting,  we  should  condemn  such  pictures,  as  painted  in 
the  meanest  style. 

So,  also,  Gardening,  as  far  as  Gardening  is  an  Art,  or 
entitled  to  that  appellation,  is  a  deviation  from  nature ;  for 
if  the  true  taste  consists,  as  many  hold,  in  banishing  every 
appearance  of  Art,  or  any  traces  of  the  footsteps  of  man,  it 
would  then  be  no  longer  a  Garden.  Even  though  we  define 
it,  "  Nature  to  advantage  dressed,"  and  in  some  sense  is 
such,  and  much  more  beautiful  and  commodious  for  the  re- 
creation of  man  ;  it  is,  however,  when  so  dressed,  no  longer 
a  subject  for  the  pencil  of  a  Landscape-Painter,  as  all  Land- 
scape-Painters know,  who  love  to  have  recourse  to  Nature 
herself,  and  to  dress  her  according  to  the  principles  of  their 
own  Art ;  which  are  far  different  from  those  of  Gardening, 
even  when  conducted  according  to  the  most  approved  prin- 
ciples ;  and  such  as  a  Landscape-Painter  himself  would 
adopt  in  the  disposition  of  his  own  grounds,  for  his  own 
private  satisfaction. 

I  have  brought  together  as  many  instances  as  appear 
necessary  to  make  out  the  several  points  which  I  wished  to 
suggest  to  your  consideration  in  this  Discourse ;  that  your 
own  thoughts  may  lead  you  further  in  the  use  that  may  be 
made  of  the  analogy  of  the  Arts ;  and  of  the  restraint  which 
a  full  understanding  of  the  diversity  of  many  of  their 
principles  ought  to  impose  on  the  employment  of  that 
analogy. 

The  great  end  of  all  those  arts  is,  to  make  an  impression 
on  the  imagination  and  the  feeling.  The  imitation  of  na- 
ture frequently  does  this.  Sometimes  it  fails,  and  some- 
thing else  succeeds.  I  think,  therefore,  the  true  test  of  all 
the  arts  is  not  solely  whether  the  production  is  a  true  copy 
21 


242 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


of  nature,  but  whether  it  answers  the  end  of  art,  which  is, 
to  produce  a  pleasing  effect  upon  the  mind. 

It  remains  only  to  speak  a  few  words  of  Architecture, 
which  does  not  come  under  the  denomination  of  an  imita- 
tive art.  It  applies  itself,  like  Music  (and,  I  believe,  we 
may  add  poetry,)  directly  to  the  imagination,  without  the 
intervention  of  any  kind  of  imitation. 

There  is  in  Architecture,  as  in  Painting,  an  inferior  branch 
of  art,  in  which  the  imagination  appears  to  have  no  concern. 
It  does  not,  however,  acquire  the  name  of  a  polite  and  liberal 
art  from  its  usefulness,  or  administering  to  our  wants  or  ne- 
cessities, but  from  some  higher  principle ;  we  are  sure  that  in 
the  hands  of  a  man  of  genius  it  is  capable  of  inspiring  sen- 
timent, and  of  filling  the  mind  with  great  and  sublime  ideas. 

It  may  be  worth  the  attention  of  Artists  to  consider 
what  materials  are  in  their  hands,  that  may  contribute  to 
this  end ;  and  whether  this  art  has  it  not  in  its  power  to 
address  itself  to  the  imagination  with  effect,  by  more  ways 
than  are  generally  employed  by  Architects. 

To  pass  over  the  effect  produced  by  that  general  sym- 
metry and  proportion,  by  which  the  eye  is  delighted,  as  the 
ear  is  with  music,  Architecture  certainly  possesses  many 
principles  in  common  with  Poetry  and  Painting.  Among 
those  which  may  be  reckoned  as  the  first,  is,  that  of  affect- 
ing the  imagination  by  means  of  association  of  ideas.  Thus, 
for  instance,  as  we  have  naturally  a  veneration  for  antiquity, 
whatever  building  brings  to  our  remembrance  ancient  cus- 
toms and  manners,  such  as  the  castles  of  the  Barons  of 
ancient  Chivalry,  is  sure  to  give  this  delight.  Hence  it  is 
that  towers  and  battlements*  are  so  often  selected  by  the 

*  Towers  and  Battlements  it  sees 
Bosom' d  high  in  tufted  trees. — Milton,  L'All. — it. 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


243 


Painter  and  the  Poet  to  make  a  part  of  the  composition  of 
their  ideal  Landscape ;  and  it  is  from  hence,  in  a  great  de- 
gree, that,  in  the  buildings  of  Vanbrugh,  who  was  a  Poet 
as  well  as  an  Architect,  there  is  a  greater  display  of  imagi- 
nation, than  we  shall  find  perhaps  in  any  other,  and  this  is 
the  ground  of  the  effect  we  feel  in  many  of  his  works,  not- 
withstanding the  faults  with  which  many  of  them  are  justly 
charged.  For  this  purpose,  Vanbrugh  appears  to  have  had 
recourse  to  some  of  the  principles  of  the  Gothic  Architec- 
ture ;  which,  though  not  so  ancient  as  the  Grecian,  is  more 
so  to  our  imagination,  with  which  the  Artist  is  more  con- 
cerned than  with  absolute  truth. 

The  Barbaric  splendor  of  those  Asiatic  Buildings,  which 
are  now  publishing  by  a  member  of  this  Academy,*  may 
possibly,  in  the  same  manner,  furnish  an  Architect,  not 
with  models  to  copy,  but  with  hints  of  composition  and 
general  effect,  which  would  not  otherwise  have  occurred. 

It  is,  I  know,  a  delicate  and  hazardous  thing  (and,  as 
such,  I  have  already  pointed  it  out)  to  carry  the  principles 
of  one  art  to  another,  or  even  to  reconcile  in  one  object  the 
various  modes  of  the  same  art,  when  they  proceed  on  differ- 
ent principles.  The  sound  rules  of  the  Grecian  Architec- 
ture are  not  to  be  lightly  sacrificed.  A  deviation  from 
them,  or  even  an  addition  to  them,  is  like  a  deviation  or 
addition  to,  or  from,  the  rules  of  other  Arts, — fit  only  for  a 
great  master,  who  is  thoroughly  conversant  in  the  nature  of 
man,  as  well  as  all  combinations  in  his  own  Art. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  for  the  Architect  to  take  advantage 
sometimes  of  that  to  which  I  am  sure  the  Painter  ought  al- 
ways to  have  his  eyes  open,  I  mean  the  use  of  accidents ; 
to  follow  when  they  lead,  and  to  improve  them,  rather  than 


*  Mr.  Hodges. 


244 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


always  to  trust  to  a  regular  plan.  It  often  happens  that 
additions  have  been  made  to  houses,  at  various  times,  for 
use  or  pleasure.  As  such  buildings  depart  from  regularity, 
they  now  and  then  acquire  something  of  scenery  by  this 
accident,  which  I  should  think  might  not  unsuccessfully  be 
adopted  by  an  Architect,  in  an  original  plan,  if  it  does  not 
too  much  interfere  with  convenience.  Variety  and  intri- 
cacy is  a  beauty  and  excellence  in  every  other  of  the  arts 
which  address  the  imagination;  and  why  not  in  Archi- 
tecture ? 

The  forms  and  turnings  of  the  streets  of  London  and 
other  old  towns  are  produced  by  accident,  without  any  ori- 
ginal plan  or  design,  but  they  are  not  always  the  less  plea- 
sant to  the  walker  or  spectator,  on  that  account.  On  the 
contrary,  if  the  city  had  been  built  on  the  regular  plan  of 
Sir  Christopher  Wren,  the  effect  might  have  been,  as  we 
know  it  is  in  some  new  parts  of  the  town,  rather  unpleasing ; 
the  uniformity  might  have  produced  weariness,  and  a  slight 
degree  of  disgust. 

I  can  pretend  to  no  skill  in  the  detail  of  Architecture. 
I  judge  now  of  the  art,  merely  as  a  Painter.  When  I  speak 
of  Vanbrugh,  I  mean  to  speak  of  him  in  the  language  of 
our  art.  To  speak  then  of  Vanbrugh  in  the  language  of  a 
painter,  he  had  originality  of  invention,  he  understood  light 
and  shadow,  and  had  great  skill  in  composition.  To  sup- 
port his  principal  object,  he  produced  his  second  and  third 
groups  or  masses ;  he  perfectly  understood  in  his  art  what 
is  the  most  difficult  in  ours,  the  conduct  of  the  back-ground ; 
by  which  the  design  and  invention  is  set  off  to  the  greatest 
advantage.  What  the  back-ground  is  in  Painting,  in  Archi- 
tecture is  the  real  ground  on  which  the  building  is  erected ; 
and  no  Architect  took  greater  care  than  he  that  his  work 


THE  THIRTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


245 


should  not  appear  crude  and  hard;  that  is,  it  did  not 
abruptly  start  out  of  the  ground  without  expectation  or 
preparation. 

This  is  a  tribute  which  a  Painter  owes  to  an  Architect 
who  composed  like  a  painter ;  and  was  defrauded  of  the  due 
reward  of  his  m,erit  by  the  wits  of  his  time,  who  did  not 
understand  the  principles  of  composition  in  poetry  better 
than  he ;  and  who  knew  little,  or  nothing,  of  what  he  under- 
stood perfectly,  the  general  ruling  principles  of  Architecture 
and  Painting.  His  fate  was  that  of  the  great  Perrault; 
both  were  the  objects  of  the  petulant  sarcasms  of  factious 
men  of  letters ;  and  both  have  left  some  of  the  fairest  orna- 
ments which  to  this  day  decorate  their  several  countries ; 
the  facade  of  the  Louvre,  Blenheim,  and  Castle  Howard. 

Upon  the  whole  it  seems  to  me,  that  the  object  and  in- 
tention of  all  the  Arts  is  to  supply  the  natural  imperfection 
of  things,  and  often  to  gratify  the  mind  by  realising  and 
embodying  what  never  existed  but  in  the  imagination. 

It  is  allowed  on  all  hands,  that  facts,  and  events,  how- 
ever they  may  bind  the  Historian,  have  no  dominion  over 
the  Poet  or  the  Painter.  With  us,  History  is  made  to  bend 
and  conform  to  this  great  idea  of  Art.  And  why  ?  Because 
these  Arts,  in  their  highest  province,  are  not  addressed  to 
the  gross  senses ;  but  to  the  desires  of  the  mind,  to  that 
spark  of  divinity  which  we  have  within,  impatient  of  being 
circumscribed  and  pent  up  by  the  world  which  is  about  us. 
Just  so  much  as  our  Art  has  of  this,  just  so  much  of  dig- 
nity, I  had  almost  said  of  divinity,  it  exhibits  ;  and  those  of 
our  Artists  who  possessed  this  mark  of  distinction  in  the 
highest  degree,  acquired  from  thence  the  glorious  appel 
lation  of  Divine. 


21* 


DISCOURSE  XIV. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  10,  1788. 

Character  of  Gainsborough : — His  Excellence  and  Defects. 
GENTLEMEN, 

In  the  study  of  our  art,  as  in  the  study  of  all  arts, 
something  is  the  result  of  our  own  observation  of  nature ; 
something,  and  that  not  a  little,  the  effect  of  the  example 
of  those  who  have  studied  the  same  nature  before  us,  and 
who  have  cultivated  before  us  the  same  art,  with  diligence 
and  success.  The  less  we  confine  ourselves  in  the  choice 
of  those  examples,  the  more  advantage  we  shall  derive  from 
them )  and  the  nearer  we  shall  bring  our  performances  to 
a  correspondence  with  nature  and  the  great  general  rules 
of  art.  When  we  draw  our  examples  from  remote  and  re- 
vered antiquity — with  some  advantage  undoubtedly  in  that 
selection — we  subject  ourselves  to  some  inconveniencies. 
We  may  suffer  ourselves  to  be  too  much  led  away  by  great 
names,  and  to  be  too  much  subdued  by  overbearing  au- 
thority. Our  learning,  in  that  case,  is  not  so  much  an 
exercise  of  our  judgment,  as  a  proof  of  our  docility.  We 
find  ourselves,  perhaps,  too  much  overshadowed;  and  the 
character  of  our  pursuits  is  rather  distinguished  by  the 
tameness  of  the  follower,  than  animated  by  the  spirit  of 
emulation.  It  is  sometimes  of  service,  that  our  examples 
should  be  near  us ;  and  such  as  raise  a  reverence,  sufficient 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


247 


to  induce  us  carefully  to  observe  them,  yet  not  so  great  as 
to  prevent  us  from  engaging  with  them  in  something  like  a 
generous  contention. 

We  have  lately  lost  Mr.  Gainsborough,  one  of  the  great- 
est ornaments  of  our  Academy.  It  is  not  our  business  here, 
to  make  panegyrics  on  the  living,  or  even  on  the  dead  who 
were  of  our  body.  The  praise  of  the  former  might  bear 
the  appearance •  of  adulation;  and  the  latter  of  untimely 
justice )  perhaps  of  envy  to  those  whom  we  have  still  the 
happiness  to  enjoy,  by  an  oblique  suggestion  of  invidious 
comparisons.  In  discoursing,  therefore,  on  the  talents  of 
the  late  Mr.  Gainsborough,  my  object  is,  not  so  much  to 
praise  or  to  blame  him,  as  to  draw  from  his  excellencies 
and  defects,  matter  of  instruction  to  the  Students  in  our 
Academy.  If  ever  this  nation  should  produce  genius  suffi- 
cient to  acquire  to  us  the  honorable  distinction  of  an  Eng- 
lish School,  the  name  of  Gainsborough  will  be  transmitted 
to  posterity,  in  the  history  of  the  art,  among  the  very  first 
of  that  rising  name.  That  our  reputation  in  the  Arts  is 
now  only  rising,  must  be  acknowledged;  and  we  must  ex- 
pect our  advances  to  be  attended  with  old  prejudices,  as 
adversaries,  and  not  as  supporters ;  standing  in  this  respect 
in  a  very  different  situation  from  the  late  artists  of  the  Ro- 
man School,  to  whose  reputation  ancient  prejudices  have 
certainly  contributed :  the  way  was  prepared  for  them,  and 
they  may  be  said  rather  to  have  lived  in  the  reputation  of 
their  country,  than  to  have  contributed  to  it ;  whilst  what- 
ever celebrity  is  obtained  by  English  Artists,  can  arise 
only  from  the  operation  of  a  fair  and  true  comparison. 
And  when  they  communicate  to  their  country  a  share  of 
their  reputation,  it  is  a  portion  of  fame  not  borrowed  from 
others,  but  solely  acquired  by  their  own  labor  and  talents. 


248  THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 

As  Italy  has  undoubtedly  a  prescriptive  right  to  an  admir- 
ation bordering  on  prejudice,  as  a  soil  peculiarly  adapted, 
congenial,  and,  we  may  add,  destined  to  the  production  of 
men  of  great  genius  in  our  Art,  we  may  not  unreasonably 
suspect  that  a  portion  of  the  great  fame  of  some  of  their 
late  artists  has  been  owing  to  the  general  readiness  and  dis- 
position of  mankind,  to  acquiesce  in  their  original  prepos- 
sessions in  favor  of  the  productions  of  the  Roman  School. 

On  this  ground,  however  unsafe,  I  will  venture  to  pro- 
phesy, that  two  of  the  last  distinguished  painters  of  that 
country,  I  mean  Pompeio  Battoni  and  Haffaelle  Mengs, 
however  great  their  names  may  at  present  sound  in  our 
ears,  will  very  soon  fall  into  the  rank  of  Imperiale,  Sebas- 
tian Concha,  Placido  Conscanza,  Masaccio,  and  the  rest  of 
their  immediate  predecessors ;  whose  names,  though  equally 
renowned  in  their  lifetime,  are  now  fallen  into  what  is  little 
short  of  total  oblivion.  I  do  not  say  that  those  painters 
were  not  superior  to  the  artist  I  allude  to,  and  whose  loss 
we  lament,  in  a  certain  routine  of  practice,  which,  to  the 
eyes  of  common  observers,  has  the  air  of  a  learned  compo- 
sition, and  bears  a  sort  of  superficial  resemblance  to  the 
manner  of  the  great  men  who  went  before  them.  I  know 
this  perfectly  well ;  but  I  know  likewise,  that  a  man  look- 
ing for  real  and  lasting  reputation,  must  unlearn  much  of 
the  common-place  method  so  observable  in  the  works  of  the 
artists  whom  I  have  named.  For  my  own  part,  I  confess, 
I  take  more  interest  in  and  am  more  captivated  with  the 
powerful  impression  of  nature,  which  Gainsborough  exhibit- 
ed in  his  portraits  and  in  his  landscapes,  and  the  interest- 
ing simplicity  and  elegance  of  his  little  ordinary  beggar- 
children,  than  with  any  of  the  works  of  that  School,  since 
the  time  of  Andrea  Sacchi,  or  perhaps  we  may  say  Carlo 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE.  249 


Maratti ;  two  painters  who  may  truly  be  said  to  be  Ultimi 

ROMANORUM. 

I  am  well  aware  how  much  I  lay  myself  open  to  the 
censure  and  ridicule  of  the  academicaj  professors  of  other 
nations,  in  preferring  the  humble  attempts  of  Gainsborough 
to  the  works  of  those  regular  graduates  in  the  great  histor- 
ical style.  But  we  have  the  sanction  of  all  mankind  in 
preferring  genius  in  a  lower  rank  of  art,  to  feebleness  and 
insipidity  in  the  highest. 

It  would  not  be  to  the  present  purpose,  even  if  I  had 
the  means  and  materials,  which  I  have  not,  to  enter  into 
the  private  life  of  Mr.  Gainsborough.  The  history  of  his 
gradual  advancement,  and  the  means  by  which  he  acquired 
such  excellence  in  his  art,  would  come  nearer  to  our  pur- 
poses and  wishes,  if  it  were  by  any  means  attainable ;  but 
the  slow  progress  of  advancement  is  in  general  imperceptible 
to  the  man  himself  who  makes  it ;  it  is  the  consequence  of 
an  accumulation  of  various  ideas  which  his  mind  has  re- 
ceived, he  does  not  perhaps  know  how  or  when.  Some- 
times indeed  it  happens,  that  he  may  be  able  to  mark  the 
time  when  from  the  sight  of  a  picture,  a  passage  in  an  au- 
thor, or  a  hint  in  conversation,  he  has  received,  as  it  were, 
some  new  and  guiding  light,  something  like  inspiration,  by 
which  his  mind  has  been  expanded ;  and  is  morally  sure 
that  his  whole  life  and  conduct  has  been  affected  by  that 
accidental  circumstance.  Such  interesting  accounts,  we 
may  however  sometimes  obtain  from  a  man  who  has  ac- 
quired an  uncommon  habit  of  self-examination,  and  has 
attended  to  the  progress  of  his  own  improvement. 

It  may  not  be  improper  to  make  mention  of  some  of  the 
customs  and  habits  of  this  extraordinary  man  j  points  which 
come  more  within  the  reach  of  an  observer ;  I  however  mean 


250  THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 

such  only  as  are  connected  with  his  art,  and  indeed  were, 
as  I  apprehend,  the  causes  of  his  arriving  to  that  high  de- 
gree of  excellence,  which  we  see  and  acknowledge  in  his 
works.  Of  these  causes  we  must  state,  as  the  fundamental, 
the  love  which  he  had  to  his  art ;  to  which,  indeed,  his  whole 
mind  appears  to  have  been  devoted,  and  to  which  every 
thing  was  referred ;  and  this  we  may  fairly  conclude  from 
various  circumstances  of  his  life,  which  were  known  to  his 
intimate  friends.  Among  others,  he  had  a  habit  of  contin- 
ually remarking  to  those  who  happened  to  be  about  him, 
whatever  peculiarity  of  countenance,  whatever  accidental 
combination  of  figure,  or  happy  effects  of  light  and  shadow, 
occurred  in  prospects,  in  the  sky,  in  walking  the  streets,  or 
in  company.  If,  in  his  walks,  he  found  a  character  that  he 
liked,  and  whose  attendance  was  to  be  obtained,  he  ordered 
him  to  his  house :  and  from  the  fields  he  brought  into  his 
painting-room,  stumps  of  trees,  weeds,  and  animals  of  vari- 
ous kinds ;  and  designed  them,  not  from  memory,  but  im- 
mediately from  the  objects.  He  even  framed  a  kind  of 
model  of  landscapes  on  his  table ;  composed  of  broken  stones, 
dried  herbs,  and  pieces  of  looking  glass,  which  he  magnified 
and  improved  into  rocks,  trees,  and  water.  How  far  this 
latter  practice  may  be  useful  in  giving  hints,  the  professors 
of  landscape  can  best  determine.  Like  every  other  techni- 
cal practice,  it  seems  to  me  wholly  to  depend  on  the  gene- 
ral talent  of  him  who  uses  it.  Such  methods  may  be  nothing 
better  than  contemptible  and  mischievous  trifling ;  or  they 
may  be  aids.  I  think,  upon  the  whole,  unless  we  constantly 
refer  to  real  nature,  that  practice  may  be  more  likely  to  do 
harm  than  good.  I  mention  it  only,  as  it  shows  the  solici- 
tude and  extreme  activity  which  he  had  about  every  thing 
that  related  to  his  art )  that  he  wished  to  have  his  objects 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


251 


embodied  as  it  were,  and  distinctly  before  him ;  that  he 
neglected  nothing  which  could  keep  his  faculties  in  exercies, 
and  derived  hints  from  every  sort  of  combination. 

We  must  not  forget,  whilst  we  are  on  this  subject,  to 
make  some  remarks  on  his  custom  of  painting  by  night, 
which  confirms  what  I  have  already  mentioned — his  great 
affection  to  his  art ;  since  he  could  not  amuse  himself  in 
the  evening  by  any  other  means  so  agreeable  to  himself.  I 
am  indeed  much  inclined  to  believe  that  it  is  a  practice 
very  advantageous  and  improving  to  an  artist :  for  by  this 
means  he  will  acquire  a  new  and  a  higher  perception  of 
what  is  great  and  beautiful  in  nature.  By  candlelight,  not 
only  objects  appear  more  beautiful,  but  from  their  being 
in  a  greater  breadth  of  light  and  shadow,  as  well  as  having 
a  greater  breadth  and  uniformity  of  color,  nature  appears 
in  a  higher  style;  and  even  the  flesh  seems  to  take  a 
higher  and  richer  tone  of  color.  Judgment  is  to  direct 
us  in  the  use  to  be  made  of  this  method  of  study ;  but  the 
method  itself  is,  I  am  very  sure,  advantageous.  I  have 
often  imagined  that  the  two  great  colorists,  Titian  and  Cor- 
reggio,  though  I  do  not  know  that  they  painted  by  night, 
formed  their  high  ideas  of  coloring  from  the  effects  of  objects 
by  this  artificial  light :  but  I  am  more  assured  that  whoever 
attentively  studies  the  first  and  best  manner  of  Gruercino, 
will  be  convinced  that  he  either  painted  by  this  light,  or 
formed  his  manner  on  this  conception. 

Another  practice  Gainsborough  had,  which  is  worth 
mentioning,  as  it  is  certainly  worthy  of  imitation ;  I  mean 
his  manner  of  forming  all  the  parts  of  his  picture  together; 
the  whole  going  on  at  the  same  time,  in  the  same  manner 
as  nature  creates  her  works.  Though  this  method  is  not 
uncommon  to  those  who  have  been  regulary  educated,  yet 


252 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


probably  it  was  suggested  to  him  by  bis  own  natural  saga- 
city. That  this  custom  is  not  universal,  appears  from  the 
practice  of  a  painter  whom  I  have  just  mentioned,  Pompeio 
Battoni,  who  finished  his  historical  pictures  part  after  part, 
.  and  in  his  portraits  completely  finished  one  feature  before 
he  proceeded  to  another.  The  consequence  was,  as  might 
be  expected;  the  countenance  was  never  well  expressed; 
and,  as  the  painters  say,  the  whole  was  not  well  put  to- 
gether. 

The  first  thing  required  to  excel  in  our  art,  or  I  believe 
in  any  art,  is  not  only  a  love  for  it,  but  even  an  enthusi- 
astic ambition  to  excel  in  it.  This  never  fails  of  success 
proportioned  to  the  natural  abilities  with  which  the  artist 
has  been  endowed  by  Providence.  Of  Gainsborough,  we 
certainly  know,  that  his  passion  was  not  the  acquirement  of 
riches,  but  excellence  in  his  art;  and  to  enjoy  that  honor- 
able fame  which  is  sure  to  attend  it.  That  he  felt  this 
ruling  passion  strong  in  death,  I  am  myself  a  witness.  A 
few  days  before  he  died,  he  wrote  me  a  letter,  to  express 
his  acknowledgements  for  the  good  opinion  I  entertained 
of  his  abilities,  and  the  manner  in  which  (he  had  been  in- 
formed) I  always  spoke  of  him ;  and  desired  he  might  see 
me  once  more  before  he  died.  I  am  aware  how  flattering 
it  is  to  myself  to  be  thus  connected  with  the  dying  testi- 
mony which  this  excellent  painter  bore  to  his  art.  But  I 
can  not  prevail  on  myself  to  suppress  that  I  was  not  con- 
nected with  him,  by  any  habits  of  familiarity :  if  any  little 
jealousies  had  subsisted  between  us,  they  were  forgotten 
in  those  moments  of  sincerity ;  and  he  turned  towards  me 
as  one  who  was  engrossed  by  the  same  pursuits,  and  who 
deserved  his  good  opinion,  by  being  sensible  of  his  excel- 
lence.   Without  entering  into  a  detail  of  what  passed  at 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


253 


this  last  interview,  the  impression  of  it  upon  my  mind  was, 
that  his  regret  at  losing  life,  was  principally  the  regret  of 
leaving  his  art;  and  more  especially  as  he  now  began,  he 
said,  to  see  what  his  deficiencies  were ;  which,  he  said  he 
flattered  himself  in  his  last  works  were  in  some  measure 
supplied. 

When  such  a  man  as  Gainsborough  arrives  to  great 
fame,  without  the  assistance  of  an  academical  education, 
without  traveling  to  Italy,  or  any  of  those  preparatory  studies 
which  have  been  so  often  recommended,  he  is  produced  as 
an  instance  how  little  such  studies  are  necessary,  since  so 
great  excellence  may  be  acquired  without  them.  This  is 
an  inference  not  warranted  by  the  success  of  any  individual ; 
and  I  trust  it  will  not  be  thought  that  I  wish  to  make  this 
use  of  it. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  style  and  department 
of  art  which  Gainsborough  chose,  and  in  which  he  so  much 
excelled,  did  not  require  that  he  should  go  out  of  his  own 
country  for  the  objects  of  his  study ;  they  were  every  where 
about  him ;  he  found  them  in  the  streets,  and  in  the  fields, 
and  from  the  models  thus  accidentally  found,  he  selected 
with  great  judgment  such  as  suited  his  purpose.  As  his 
studies  were  directed  to  the  living  world  principally,  he  did 
not  pay  a  general  attention  to  the  works  of  the  various 
masters,  though  they  are,  in  my  opinion,  always  of  great 
use,  even  when  the  character  of  our  subject  requires  us  to 
depart  from  some  of  their  principles.  It  can  not  be  denied, 
that  excellence  in  the  department  of  the  art  which  he  pro- 
fessed may  exist  without  them ;  that  in  such  subjects,  and 
in  the  manner  that  belongs  to  them,  the  want  of  them  is 
supplied,  and  more  than  supplied,  by  natural  sagacity,  and  a 
minute  observation  of  particular  nature.  If  Gainsborough  did 
22 


254 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


not  look  at  nature  with  a  poet's  eye,  it  must  be  acknowledged 
that  he  saw  her  with  the  eye  of  a  painter ;  and  gave  a  faith- 
ful, if  not  a  poetical,  representation  of  what  he  had  before 
him. 

Though  he  did  not  much  attend  to  the  works  of  the 
great  historical  painters  of  former  ages,  yet  he  was  well 
aware  that  the  language  of  the  art — the  art  of  imitation — 
must  be  learned  somewhere ;  and  as  he  knew  that  he  could 
not  learn  it  in  an  equal  degree  from  his  contemporaries,  he 
very  judiciously  applied  himself  to  the  Flemish  School, 
who  are  undoubtedly  the  greatest  masters  of  one  necessary 
branch  of  art ;  and  he  did  not  need  to  go  out  of  his  own 
country  for  examples  of  that  school :  from  that  he  learnt 
the  harmony  of  coloring,  the  management  and  disposition 
of  light  and  shadow,  and  every  means  which  the  masters 
of  it  practiced,  to  ornament  and  give  splendor  to  their 
works.  And  to  satisfy  himself  as  well  as  others,  how  well 
he  knew  the  mechanism  and  artifice  which  they  employed 
to  bring  out  that  tone  of  color  which  we  so  much  admire  in 
their  works,  he  occasionally  made  copies  from  Rubens, 
Teniers,  and  Vandyck,  which  it  would  be  no  disgrace  to  the 
most  accurate  connoisseur  to  mistake,  at  the  first  sight,  for 
the  works  of  those  masters.  What  he  thus  learned,  he  ap- 
plied to  the  originals  of  nature,  which  he  saw  with  his  own 
eyes ;  and  imitated,  not  in  the  manner  of  those  masters,  but 
in  his  own. 

Whether  he  most  excelled  in  portraits,  landscapes,  or' 
fancy-pictures,  it  is  difficult  to  determine :  whether  his 
portraits  were  most  admirable  for  exact  truth  of  resemblance, 
or  his  landscapes  for  a  portrait-like  representation  of  nature, 
such  as  we  see  in  the  works  of  Rubens,  Ruysdaal,  and 
others  of  those  schools.  In  his  fancy  pictures,  when  he  had 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


255 


fixed  on  his  object  of  imitation,  whether  it  was  the  mean 
and  vulgar  form  of  a  wood-cutter,  or  a  child  of  an  interest- 
ing character,  as  he  did  not  attempt  to  raise  the  one,  so 
neither  did  he  lose  any  of  the  natural  grace  and  elegance, 
of  the  other ;  such  a  grace,  and  such  an  elegance,  as  are 
more  frequently  found  in  cottages  than  in  courts.  This 
excellence  was  his  own,  the  result  of  his  particular  obser- 
vation and  taste;  for  this  he  was  certainly  not  indebted 
to  the  Flemish  School,  nor  indeed  to  any  School ;  for  his 
grace  was  not  academical  or  antique,  but  selected  by  him- 
self from  the  great  school  of  nature ;  and  there  are  yet  a 
thousand  modes  of  grace,  which  are  neither  theirs,  nor  his, 
but  lie  open  in  the  multiplied  scenes  and  figures  of  life,  to 
be  brought  out  by  skilful  and  faithful  observers. 

Upon  the  whole,  we  may  justly  say,  that  whatever  he 
attempted  he  carried  to  a  high  degree  of  excellence.  It  is 
to  the  credit  of  his  good  sense  and  judgment,  that  he  never 
did  attempt  that  style  of  historical  painting,  for  which  his 
previous  studies  had  made  no  preparation. 

And  here  it  naturally  occurs  to  oppose  the  sensible  con- 
duct of  Gainsborough,  in  this  respect,  to  that  of  our  late 
excellent  Hogarth,  who,  with  all  his  extraordinary  talents, 
was  not  blessed  with  this  knowledge  of  his  own  deficiency ; 
or  of  the  bounds  which  were  set  to  the  extent  of  his  own 
powers.  After  this  admirable  artist  had  spent  the  greater 
part  of  his  life  in  an  active,  busy,  and  we  may  add,  success- 
ful attention  to  the  ridicule  of  life ;  after  he  had  invented  a 
new  species  of  dramatic  painting,  in  which  probably  he  will 
never  be  equalled,  and  had  stored  his  mind  with  infinite 
materials  to  explain  and  illustrate  the  domestic  and  familiar 
scenes  of  common  life,  which  were  generally,  and  ought  to 
have  been  always,  the  subject  of  his  pencil;  he  very  impru- 


256 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


dently,  or  rather  presumptuously,  attempted  the  great  his- 
torical style,  for  which  his  previous  habits  had  by  no  means 
prepared  him  :  he  was  indeed  so  entirely  unacquainted  with 
the  principles  of  this  style,  that  he  was  not  even  aware 
that  any  artificial  preparation  was  at  all  necessary.  It  is  to 
be  regretted,  that  any  part  of  the  life  of  such  a  genius 
should  be  fruitlessly  employed.  Let  his  failure  teach  us  not 
to  indulge  ourselves  in  the  vain  imagination,  that  by  a  mo- 
mentary resolution  we  can  give  either  dexterity  to  the  hand, 
or  a  new  habit  to  the  mind. 

I  have,  however,  little  doubt,  but  that  the  same  saga- 
city, which  enabled  those  two  extraordinary  men  to  dis- 
cover their  true  object,  and  the  peculiar  excellence  of  that 
branch  of  art  which  they  cultivated,  would  have  been 
equally  effectual  in  discovering  the  principles  of  the  higher 
style,  if  they  had  investigated  those  principles  with  the 
same  eager  industry  which  they  exerted  in  their  own  de- 
partment. As  Gainsborough  never  attempted  the  heroic 
style  so  neither  did  he  destroy  the  character  and  uniform- 
ity of  his  own  style,  by  the  idle  affectation  of  introducing 
mythological  learning  in  any  of  his  pictures.  Of  this  boy- 
ish folly  we  see  instances  enough,  even  in  the  works  of 
great  painters.  When  the  Dutch  School  attempt  this  poetry 
of  our  art  in  their  landscapes,  their  performances  are  be- 
neath criticism;  they  become  only  an  object  of  laughter. 
This  practice  is  hardly  excusable,  even  in  Claude  Lorrain, 
who  had  shown  more  discretion,  if  he  had  never  meddled 
with  such  subjects. 

Our  late  ingenious  Academician,  Wilson,  has,  I  fear, 
been  guilty,  like  many  of  his  predecessors,  of  introducing 
gods  and  goddesses,  ideal  beings,  into  scenes  which  were  by 
no  means  prepared  to  receive  such  personages.    His  land- 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


257 


scapes  were  in  reality  too  near  common  nature  to  admit 
supernatural  objects.  In  consequence  of  this  mistake,  in  a 
very  admirable  picture  of  a  storm,  which  I  have  seen  of 
his  hand,  many  figures  are  introduced  in  the  foreground, 
some  in  apparent  distress,  and  some  struck  dead,  as  a  spec- 
tator would  naturally  suppose,  by  the  lightning,  had  not 
the  painter  injudiciously  (as  I  think)  rather  chosen  that 
their  death  should  be  imputed  to  a  little  Apollo,  who  ap- 
pears in  the  sky,  with  his  bent  bow,  and  that  those  figures 
should  be  considered  as  the  children  of  Niobe. 

To  manage  a  subject  of  this  kind,  a  peculiar  style  of 
art  is  required :  and  it  can  only  be  done  without  impro- 
priety or*  even  without  ridicule,  when  we  adapt  the  charac- 
ter of  -  the  landscape,  and  that  too,  in  all  its  parts,  to  the 
historical  or  poetical  representation.  This  is  a  very  diffi- 
cult adventure,  and  it  requires  a  mind  thrown  back  two 
thousand  years,  and  as  it  were  naturalized  in  antiquity,  like 
that  of  Nicolo  Poussin,  to  achieve  it.  In  the  picture  allu- 
ded to,  the  first  idea  that  presents  itself  is  that  of  wonder, 
at  seeing  a  figure  in  so  uncommon  a  situation  as  that  in 
which  the  Apollo  is  placed ;  for  the  clouds  on  which  he 
kneels  have  not  the  appearance  of  being  able  to  support 
him ;  they  have  neither  the  substance  nor  the  form  fit  for 
the  receptacle  of  a  human  figure ;  and  they  do  not  possess 
in  any  respect  that  romantic  character  which  is  appropri- 
ated to  such  an  object,  and  which  alone  can  harmonize  with 
poetical  stories. 

It  appears  to  me,  that  such  conduct  is  no  less  absurd, 
than  if  a  plain  man,  giving  a  relation  of  real  distress  oc- 
casioned by  an  inundation  accompanied  with  thunder  and 
lightning,  should,  instead  of  simply  relating  the  event,  take 
it  into  his  head,  in  order  to  give  a  grace  to  his  narration,  to 
22* 


258 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


talk  of  Jupiter  Pluvius,  or  Jupiter  and  his  thunderbolts,  or 
any  other  figurative  idea •  an  intermixture  which,  though  in 
poetry,  with  its  proper  preparations  and  accompaniments, 
it  might  be  managed  with  effect,  yet  in  the  instance  before 
us  would  counteract  the  purpose  of  the  narrator,  and,  in- 
stead of  being  interesting,  would  be  only  ridiculous. 

The  Dutch  and  Flemish  style  of  landscape,  not  even 
excepting  those  of  Rubens,  is  unfit  for  poetical  subjects  :  but 
to  explain  in  what  this  ineptitude  consists,  or  to  point  out 
all  the  circumstances  that  give  nobleness,  grandeur,  and  the 
poetic  character,  to  style,  in  landscape,  would  require  a  long 
discourse  of  itself ;  and  the  end  would  be  then  perhaps  but 
imperfectly  attained.  The  painter  who  is  ambitious  of  this 
perilous  excellence  must  catch  his  inspiration  from  those 
who  have  cultivated  with  success  the  poetry,  as  it  may  be 
called,  of  the  art ;  and  they  are  few  indeed. 

I  can  not  quit  this  subject  without  mentioning  two  ex- 
amples which  occur  to  me  at  present,  in  which  the  poetical 
style  of  landscape  may  be  seen  happily  executed  :  the  one  is 
Jacob's  Dream  by  Salvator  Rosa,  and  the  other  the  return 
of  the  Ark  from  Captivity,  by  Sebastian  Bourdon.*  With 
whatever  dignity  those  histories  are  presented  to  us  in  the 
language  of  Scripture,  this  style  of  painting  possesses  the 
same  power  of  inspiring  sentiments  of  grandeur  and  sub- 
limity, and  is  able  to  communicate  them  to  subjects  which 
appear  by  no  means  adapted  to  receive  them.  A  ladder 
against  the  sky  has  no  very  promising  appearance  of  poss- 
essing a  capacity  to  excite  any  heroic  ideas ;  and  the  Ark, 
in  the  hands  of  a  second-rate  master,  would  have  little  more 

*  This  fine  picture  was  in  our  author's  collection ;  and  was  be- 
queathed by  him  to  Sir  George  Beaumont,  Bart. — M. 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


259 


effect  than  a  common  wagon  on  the  highway :  yet  those 
subjects  are  so  poetically  treated  throughout,  the  parts  have 
such  a  correspondence  with  each  other,  and  the  whole  and 
every  part  of  the  scene  is  so  visionary,  that  it  is  impossible 
to  look  at  them,  without  feeling,  in  some  measure,  the  en- 
thusiasm which  seems  to  have  inspired  the  painters. 

By  continual  contemplation  of  such  works,  a  sense  of 
the  higher  excellencies  of  art  will  by  degrees  dawn  on  the 
imagination ;  at  every  review  that  sense  will  become  more 
and  more  assured,  until  we  come  to  enjoy  a  sober  certainty 
of  the  real  existence  (if  I  may  so  express  myself)  of  those 
almost  ideal  beauties ;  and  the  artist  will  then  find  no  diffi- 
culty in  fixing  in  his  mind  the  principles  by  which  the  im- 
pression is  produced  ;  which  he  will  feel  and  practice,  though 
they  are  perhaps  too  delicate  and  refined,  and  too  peculiar 
to  the  imitative  art,  to  be  conveyed  to  the  mind  by  any 
other  means. 

To  return  to  Gainsborough  :  the  peculiarity  of  his  man- 
ner, or  style,  or  we  may  call  it — the  language  in  which  he 
expressed  his  ideas,  has  been  considered  by  many  as  his 
greatest  .defect.  But  without  altogether  wishing  to  enter 
into  the  discussion — whether  this  peculiarity  was  a  defect 
or  not,  intermixed,  as  it  was,  with  great  beauties,  of  some 
of  which  it  was  probably  the  cause,  it  becomes  a  proper 
subject  of  criticism  and  inquiry  to  a  painter. 

A  novelty  and  peculiarity  of  manner,  as  it  is  often  a 
cause  of  our  approbation,  so  likewise  it  is  often  a  ground  of 
censure  j  as  being  contrary  to  the  practice  of  other  painters, 
in  whose  manner  we  have  been  initiated,  and  in  whose  favor 
we  have  perhaps  been  prepossessed  from  our  infancy ;  for, 
fond  as  we  are  of  novelty,  we  are  upon  the  whole  creatures 
of  habit.     However,  it  is  certain,  that  all  those  odd 


260 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


scratches  and  marks,  which,  on  a  close  examination,  are  so 
observable  in  Gainsborough's  pictures,  and  which  even  to 
experienced  painters  appear  rather  the  effect  of  accident 
than  design :  this  chaos,  this  uncouth  and  shapeless  appear- 
ance, by  a  kind  of  magic,  at  a  certain  distance  assumes 
form,  and  all  the  parts  seem  to  drop  into  their  proper 
places,  so  that  we  can  hardly  refuse  acknowledging  the  full 
effect  of  diligence,  under  the  appearance  of  chance  and 
hasty  negligence.  That  Gainsborough  himself  considered 
this  peculiarity  in  his  manner,  and  the  power  it  possesses 
of  exciting  surprise,  as  a  beauty  in  his  works,  I  think  may 
be  inferred  from  the  eager  desire  which  we  know  he  always 
expressed,  that  his  pictures,  at  the  Exhibition,  should  be 
seen  near,  as  well  as  at  a  distance. 

The  slightness  which  we  see  in  his  best  works  can  not 
always  be  imputed  to  negligence.  However  they  may  ap- 
pear to  superficial  observers,  painters  know  very  well  that  a 
steady  attention  to  the  general  effect  takes  up  more  time, 
and  is  much  more  laborious  to  the  mind,  than  any  mode  of 
high  finishing,  or  smoothness,  without  such  attention.  His 
handling,  the  manner  of  leaving  the  colors,  or,  in  other 
words,  the  methods  he  used  for  producing  the  effect,  had 
very  much  the  appearance  of  the  work  of  an  artist  who  had 
never  learned  from  others  the  usual  and  regular  practice 
belonging  to  the  art ;  but  still,  like  a  man  of  strong  intui- 
tive perception  of  what  was  required,  he  found  out  a  way 
of  his  own  to  accomplish  his  purpose. 

It  is  no  disgrace  to  the  genius  of  Gainsborough,  to  com- 
pare him  to  such  men  as  we  sometimes  meet  with,  whose 
natural  eloquence  appears  even  in  speaking  a  language  which 
they  can  scarce  be  said  to  understand;  and  who,  without 
knowing  the  appropriate  expression  of  almost  any  one  idea 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


261 


contrive  to  communicate  the  lively  and  forcible  impressions 
of  an  energetic  mind. 

I  think  some  apology,  may  reasonably  be  made  for  his 
manner  without  violating  truth,  or  running  any  risk  of 
poisoning  the  minds  of  the  younger  students,  by  propaga- 
ting false  criticism,  for  the  sake  of  raising  the  character  of 
a  favorite  artist.  It  must  be  allowed,  that  this  hatching 
manner  of  Gainsborough  did  very  much  contribute  to  the 
lightness  of  effect  which  is  so  eminent  a  beauty  in  his  pic- 
tures ;  as,  on  the  contrary,  much  smoothness,  and  uniting 
the  colors,  is  apt  to  produce  heaviness.  Every  artist  must 
have  remarked,  how  often  that  lightness  of  hand  which  was 
in  his  dead  color,  or  first  painting,  escaped  in  the  finishing 
when  he  had  determined  the  parts  with  more  precision ;  and 
another  loss  he  often  experiences,  which  is  of  greater  con- 
sequence ;  whilst  he  is  employed  in  the  detail,  the  effect  of 
the  whole  together  is  either  forgotten  or  neglected.  The 
likeness  of  a  portrait,  as  I  have  formerly  observed,  consists 
more  in  preserving  the  general  effect  of  the  countenance, 
than  in  the  most  minute  finishing  of  the  features,  or  any 
of  the  particular  parts.  Now,  Gainsborough's  portraits 
were  often  little  more,  in  regard  to  finishing,  or  determin- 
ing the  form  of  the  features,  than  what  generally  attends  a 
dead  color;  but  as  he  was  always  attentive  to  the  general 
effect,  or  whole  together,  I  have  often  imagined  that  this 
unfinished  manner  contributed  even  to  that  striking  resem- 
blance for  which  his  portraits  are  so  remarkable.  Though 
this  opinion  may  be  considered  as  fanciful,  yet  I  think  a 
plausible  reason  may  be  given,  why  such  a  mode  of  paint- 
ing should  have  such  an  effect.  It  is  pre-supposed  that  in 
this  undetermined  manner  there  is  the  general  effect ;  enough 
to  remind  the  spectator  of  the  original ;  the  imagination  sup- 


262 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


plies  the  rest,  and  perhaps  more  satisfactorily  to  himself, 
if  not  more  exactly,  than  the  artist,  with  all  his  care,  could 
possibly  have  done.  At  the  same  time  it  must  be  acknowl- 
edged there  is  one  evil  attending  this  mode ;  that  if  the 
portrait  were  seen  previous  to  any  knowledge  of  the  origi- 
nal, different  persons  would  form  different  ideas,  and  all 
would  be  disappointed  at  not  finding  the  original  corres- 
pond with  their  own  conceptions ;  under  the  great  latitude 
which  indistinctness  gives  to  the  imagination  to  assume 
almost  what  character  or  form  it  pleases. 

Every  artist  has  some  favorite  part,  on  which  he  fixes 
his  attention,  and  which  he  pursues  with  such  eagerness, 
that  it  absorbs  every  other  consideration ;  and  he  often  falls 
into  the  opposite  error  of  that  which  he  would  avoid,  which 
is  always  ready  to  receive  him.  Now,  Gainsborough,  having 
truly  a  painter's  eye  for  coloring,  cultivated  those  effects  of 
the  art  which  proceed  from  colors :  and  sometimes  appears 
to  be  indifferent  to  or  to  neglect  other  excellencies.  What- 
ever defects  are  acknowledged,  let  him  still  experience  from 
us  the  same  candor  that  we  so  freely  give  upon  "similar  oc- 
casions to  the  ancient  masters ;  let  us  not  encourage  that 
fastidious  disposition,  which  is  discontented  with  every  thing 
short  of  perfection,  and  unreasonably  require,  as  we  some- 
times do,  a  union  of  excellencies,  not  perhaps  quite  com- 
patible with  each  other.  We  may,  on  this  ground,  say  even 
of  the  divine  Raffaelle,  that  he  might  have  finished  his  pic- 
ture as  highly  and  as  correctly  as  was  his  custom,  without 
heaviness  of  manner ;  and  that  Poussin  might  have  preserved 
all  his  precision  without  hardness  or  dryness. 

To  show  the  difficulty  of  uniting  solidity  with  lightness 
of  manner,  we  may  produce  a  picture  of  Rubens  in  the 
church  of  St.  Gudule,  at  Brussels,  as  an  example;  the  sub- 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


263 


ject  is,  Christ? s  Charge  to  Peter ;  which  as  it  is  the  high- 
est and  smoothest  finished  picture  I  remember  to  have 
seen  of  that  master,  so  it  is  by  far  the  heaviest ;  and  if  I 
had  found  it  in  any  other  place,  I  should  have  suspected  it 
to  be  a  copy ;  for  painters  know  very  well,  that  it  is  princi- 
pally by  this  air  of  facility,  or  the  want  of  it,  that  originals 
are  distinguished  from  copies.  A  lightness  of  effect  pro- 
duced by  color,  and  that  produced  by  facility  of  handling, 
are  generally  united ;  a  copy  may  preserve  something  of  the 
one,  it  is  true,  but  hardly  ever  of  the  other ;  a  connoisseur 
therefore  finds  it  often  necessary  to  look  carefully  into  the 
picture  before  he  determines  on  its  originality.  Gainsbo- 
rough possessed  this  quality  of  lightness  of  manner  and  effect, 
1  think,  to  an  unexampled  degree  of  excellence;  but  it 
must  be  acknowledged,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  sacrifice 
which  he  made  to  this  ornament  of  our  art,  was  too  great ; 
it  was,  in  reality,  preferring  the  lesser  excellencies  to  the 
greater. 

To  conclude.  However  we  may  apologise  for  the  defi- 
ciencies of  Gainsborough  (I  mean  particularly  his  want  of 
precision  and  finishing,)  who  so  ingeniously  contrived  to 
cover  his  defects  by  his  beauties ;  and  who  cultivated  that 
department  of  art,  where  such  defects  are  more  easily  ex- 
cused ;  you  are  to  remember,  that  no  apology  can  be  made 
for  this  deficiency,  in  that  style  which  this  Academy  teaches, 
and  which  ought  to  be  the  object  of  your  pursuit.  It  will 
be  necessary  for  you,  in  the  first  place,  never  to  lose  sight 
of  the  great  rules  and  principles  of  the  art,  as  they  are  col- 
lected from  the  full  body  of  the  best  general  practice,  and 
the  most  constant  and  uniform  experience ;  this  must  be 
the  groundwork  of  all  your  studies :  afterwards  you  may 
profit,  as  in  this  case  I  wish  you  to  profit,  by  the  peculiar 


264 


THE  FOURTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


experience  and  personal  talents  of  artists  living  and  dead ; 
you  may  derive  lights,  and  catch  hints,  from  their  practice ; 
but  the  moment  you  turn  them  into  models,  you  fall  infi- 
nitely below  them ;  you  may  be  corrupted  by  excellencies, 
not  so  much  belonging  to  the  art,  as  personal  and  appropri- 
ated to  the  artist ;  and  become  bad  copiers  of  good  painters, 
instead  of  excellent  imitators  of  the  great  universal  truth 
of  things. 


DISCOURSE  XV. 


Delivered  to  the  Students  of  the  Royal  Academy,  on  the  Distribution 
of  the  Prizes,  December  10,  1790. 

The  President  takes  leave  of  the  Academy. — A  Review  of  the  Discourses. — The 
Study  of  the  Works  of  Michael  Angelo  recommended. 

GENTLEMEN, 

The  intimate  connection  which  I  have  had  with  the 
Royal  Academy  ever  since  its  establishment,  the  social 
duties  in  which  we  have  all  mutually  engaged  for  so  many- 
years,  make  any  profession  of  attachment  to  this  Institution, 
on  my  part,  altogether  superfluous ;  the  influence  of  habit 
alone  in  such  a  connection  would  naturally  have  produced 
it. 

Among  men  united  in  the  same  body,  and  engaged  in 
the  same  pursuit,  along  with  permanent  friendship  occasional 
differences  will  arise.  In  these  disputes  men  are  naturally 
too  favorable  to  themselves,  and  think  perhaps  too  hardly 
of  their  antagonists.  But  composed  and  constituted  as  we 
are,  those  little  contentions  will  be  lost  to  others,  and  they 
ought  certainly  to  be  lost  amongst  ourselves  in  mutual  es- 
teem for  talents  and  acquirements  :  every  controversy  ought 
to  be,  and  I  am  persuaded  will  be,  sunk  in  our  zeal  for  the 
perfection  of  our  common  Art. 

In  parting  with  the  Academy,  I  shall  remember  with 
pride,  affection,  and  gratitude,  the  support  with  which  I 
have  almost  uniformly  been  honored  from  the  commence- 
ment of  our  intercourse.  I  shall  leave  you,  Gentlemen, 
with  unaffected  cordial  wishes  for  your  future  concord,  and 
23 


266 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


with  a  well-founded  hope,  that  in  that  concord  the  auspi- 
cious and  not  obscure  origin  of  our  Academy  may  be  for- 
gotten in  the  splendor  of  your  succeeding  prospects. 

My  age,  and  my  infirmities  still  more  than  my  age, 
make  it  probable  that  this  will  be  the  last  time  I  shall  have 
the  honor  of  addressing  you  from  this  place.  Excluded  as 
I  am,  spatiis  iniquis,  from  indulging  my  imagination  with 
a  distant  and  forward  perspective  of  life,  I  may  be  excused 
if  I  turn  my  eyes  back  on  the  way  which  I  have  passed. 

We  may  assume  to  ourselves,  I  should  hope,  the  credit 
of  having  endeavored,  at  least,  to  fill  with  propriety  that 
middle  station  which  we  hold  in  the  general  connection  of 
things.  Our  predecessors  have  labored  for  our  advantage, 
we  labor  for  our  successors ;  and  though  we  have  done  no 
more  in  this  mutual  intercourse  and  reciprocation  of  bene- 
fits, than  has  been  effected  by  other  societies  formed  in  this 
nation  for  the  advancement  of  useful  and  ornamental  knowl- 
edge, yet  there  is  one  circumstance  which  appears  to  give 
us  an  higher  claim  than  the  credit  of  merely  doing  our  duty. 
What  I  at  present  allude  to,  is  the  honor  of  having  been, 
some  of  us,  the  first  contrivers,  and  all  of  us  the  promoters 
and  supporters,  of  the  annual  Exhibition.  This  scheme 
could  only  have  originated  from  Artists  already  in  possession 
of  the  favor  of  the  public ;  as  it  would  not  have  been  so 
much  in  the  power  of  others  to  have  excited  curiosity.  It 
must  be  remembered,  that  for  the  sake  of  bringing  forward 
into  notice  concealed  merit,  they  incurred  the  risk  of  pro- 
ducing rivals  to  themselves ;  they  voluntarily  entered  the 
lists,  and  ran  the  race  a  second  time  for  the  prize  which 
they  had  already  won. 

When  we  take  a  review  of  the  several  departmenst  of 
the  Institution,  I  think  we  may  safely  congratulate  our- 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


267 


selves  on  our  good  fortune  in  having  hitherto  seen  the  chairs 
of  our  Professors  filled  with  men  of  distinguished  abilities, 
and  who  have  so  well  acquitted  themselves  of  their  duty  in 
their  several  departments.  I  look  upon  it  to  be  of  import- 
ance, that  none  of  them  should  be  ever  left  unfilled  :  a  neg- 
lect to  provide  for  qualified  persons,  is  to  produce  a  neglect 
of  qualifications. 

In  this  honorable  rank  of  Professors,  I  have  not  pre- 
sumed to  class  myself ;  though  in  the  Discourses  which  I 
have  had  the  honor  of  delivering  from  this  place,  while  in 
one  respect  I  may  be  considered  as  a  volunteer,  in  another 
view  it  seems  as  if  I  was  involuntarily  pressed  into  this 
service.  If  prizes  were  to  be  given,  it  appeared  not  only 
proper,  but  almost  indispensably  necessary,  that  something 
should  be  said  by  the  President  on  the  delivery  of  those 
prizes  :  and  the  President  for  his  own  credit  would  wish  to 
say  something  more  than  mere  words  of  compliment,  which, 
by  being  frequently  repeated,  would  soon  become  flat  and 
uninteresting,  and  by  being  uttered  to  many,  would  at  last 
become  a  distinction  to  none ;  I  thought,  therefore,  if  I 
were  to  preface  this  compliment  with  some  instructive  ob- 
servations on  the  Art,  when  we  crowned  merit  in  the  Artists 
whom  we  rewarded,  I  might  do  something  to  animate  and 
guide  them  in  their  future  attempts. 

I  am  truly  sensible  how  unequal  I  have  been  to  the 
expression  of  my  own  ideas.  To  develope  the  latent  excel- 
lencies, and  draw  out  the  interior  principles,  of  our  art,  re- 
quires more  skill  and  practice  in  writing,  than  is  likely  to 
be  possessed  by  a  man  perpetually  occupied  in  the  use  of  the 
pencil  and  the  pallet.  It  is  for  that  reason,  perhaps,  that 
the  sister  Art  has  had  the  advantage  of  better  criticism. 
Poets  are  naturally  writers  of  prose.    They  may  be  said  to 


268 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


be  practicing  only  an  inferior  department  of  their  own  art 
when  they  are  explaining  and  expatiating  upon  its  most  re- 
fined principles.  But  still  such  difficulties  ought  not  to 
deter  Artists,  who  are  not  prevented  by  other  engagements? 
from  putting  their  thoughts  in  order  as  well  as  they  can, 
and  from  giving  to  the  public  the  result  of  their  experience. 
The  knowledge  which  an  Artist  has  of  his  subject  will 
more  than  compensate  for  any  want  of  elegance  in  the  man- 
ner of  treating  it,  or  even  of  perspicuity,  which  is  still  more 
essential ;  and  I  am  convinced  that  one  short  essay  written 
by  a  Painter,  will  contribute  more  to  advance  the  theory  of 
our  art,  than  a  thousand  volumes  such  as  we  sometimes 
see:  the  purpose  of  which  appears  to  be  rather  to  display 
the  refinement  of  the  Author's  own  conceptions  of  impos- 
sible practice,  than  to  convey  useful  knowledge  or  instruc- 
tion of  any  kind  whatever.  An  Artist  knows  what  is,  and 
what  is  not,  within  the  province  of  his  art  to  perform ;  and 
is  not  likely  to  be  forever  teazing  the  poor  Student  with  the 
beauties  of  mixed  passions,  or  to  perplex  him  with  an  im- 
aginary union  of  excellencies  incompatible  with  each  other. 

To  this  work,  however,  I  could  not  be  said  to  come  to- 
tally unprovided  with  materials.  I  had  seen  much,  and  I 
had  thought  much  upon  what  I  had  seen ;  I  had  something 
of  an  habit  of  investigation,  and  a  disposition  to  reduce  all 
that  I  observed  and  felt  in  my  own  mind,  to  method  and 
system ;  but  never  having  seen  what  I  myself  knew,  dis- 
tinctly placed  before  me  on  paper,  I  knew  nothing  correctly. 
To  put  those  ideas  into  something  like  order  was,  to  my 
inexperience,  no  easy  task.  The  composition,  the  ponere 
totum  even  of  a  single  Discourse,  as  well  as  of  a  single 
statue,  was  the  most  difficult  part,  as  perhaps  it  is  of  every 
other  art,  and  most  requires  the  hand  of  a  master. 

23* 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


269 


For  the  manner,  whatever  deficiency  there  was,  I  might 
reasonably  expect  indulgence ;  but  I  thought  it  indispensa- 
bly necessary  well  to  consider  the  opinions  which  were  to  be 
given  out  from  this  place,  and  under  the  sanction  of  a  Royal 
Academy  j  I  therefore  examined  not  only  my  own  opinions, 
but  likewise  the  opinions  of  others.  I  found  in  the  course 
of  this  research,  many  precepts  and  rules  established  in  our 
art,  which  did  not  seem  to  me  altogether  reconcileable  with 
each  other,  yet  each  seemed  in  itself  to  have  the  same  claim 
of  being  supported  by  truth  and  nature ;  and  this  claim,  ir- 
reconcileable  as  they  may  be  thought,  they  do  in  reality 
alike  possess. 

To  clear  away  those  difficulties,  and  reconcile  those 
contrary  opinions,  it  became  necessary  to  distinguish  the 
greater  truth,  as  it  may  be  called,  from  the  lesser  truth ; 
the  larger  and  more  liberal  idea  of  nature  from  the  more 
narrow  and  confined ;  that  which  addresses  itself  to  the  im- 
agination, from  that  which  is  solely  addressed  to  the  eye. 
In  consequence  of  this  discrimination,  the  different  branches 
of  our  art,  to  which  those  different  truths  were  referred, 
were  perceived  to  make  so  wide  a  separation,  and  put  on  so 
new  an  appearance,  that  they  seemed  scarcely  to  have  pro- 
ceeded from  the  same  general  stock.  The  different  rules 
and  regulations,  which  presided  over  each  department  of 
art,  followed  of  course  :  every  mode  of  excellence,  from  the 
grand  style  of  the  Roman  and  Florentine  Schools  down  to 
the  lowest  rank  of  still  life,  had  its  due  weight  and  value, 
— fitted  some  class  or  other;  and  nothing  was  thrown 
away.  By  this  disposition  of  our  art  into  classes,  that  per- 
plexity and  confusion,  which  I  apprehend  every  Artist  has 
at  some  time  experienced  from  the  variety  of  styles,  and  the 
variety  of  excellence  with  which  he  is  surrounded,  is,  I 
23* 


270  THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 

should  hope,  in  some  measure  removed,  and  the  student 
better  enabled  to  judge  for  himself,  what  peculiarly  belongs 
to  his  own  particular  pursuit. 

In  reviewing  my  Discourses,  it  is  no  small  satisfaction 
to  be  assured  that  I  have,  in  no  part  of  them,  lent  my  as- 
sistance to  foster  newly -hatched  unfledged  opinions,  or  en- 
deavored to  support  paradoxes,  however  tempting  may  have 
been  their  novelty,  or  however  ingenious  I  might,  for  the 
minute,  fancy  them  to  be ;  nor  shall  I,  I  hope,  any  where 
be  found  to  have  imposed  on  the  minds  of  young  Students 
declamation  for  argument,  a  smooth  period  for  a  sound  pre- 
cept. I  have  pursued  a  plain  and  honest  method :  I  have 
taken  up  the  art  simply  as  I  found  it  exemplified  in  the 
practice  of  the  most  approved  Painters.  That  approbation 
which  the  world  has  uniformly  given,  I  have  endeavored  to 
justify  by  such  proofs  as  questions  of  this  kind  will  admit ; 
by  the  analogy  which  Painting  holds  with  the  sister  Arts, 
and  consequently  by  the  common  congeniality  which  they 
all  bear  to  our  nature.  And  though  in  what  has  been  done 
no  new  discovery  is  pretended,  I  may  still  flatter  myself, 
that  from  the  discoveries  which  others  have  made  by  their 
own  intuitive  good  sense  and  native  rectitude  of  judgment, 
I  have  succeeded  in  establishing  the  rules  and  principles  of 
our  art  on  a  more  firm  and  lasting  foundation  than  that  on 
which  they  had  formerly  been  placed. 

Without  wishing  to  divert  the  Student  from  the  practice 
of  his  Art  to  speculative  theory,  to  make  him  a  mere  con- 
noisseur instead  of  a  Painter,  I  can  not  but  remark,  that  he 
will  certainly  find  an  account  in  considering  once  for  all, 
on  what  ground  the  fabric  of  our  art  is  built.  Uncertain, 
confused,  or  erroneous  opinions  are  not '  only  detrimental  to 
an  Artist  in  their  immediate  operation,  but  may  possibly 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


271 


have  very  serious  consequences ;  affect  his  conduct,  and  give 
a  peculiar  character  (as  it  may  be  called)  to  his  taste,  and 
to  his  pursuits,  through  his  whole  life. 

I  was  acquainted  at  Rome  in  the  early  part  of  my  life, 
with  a  Student  of  the  French  Academy,  who  appeared  to 
me  to  possess  all  the  qualities  requisite  to  make  a  great 
Artist,  if  he  had  suffered  his  taste  and  feelings,  and  I  may 
add  even  his  prejudices,  to  have  fair  play.  He  saw  and 
felt  the  excellencies  of  the  great  works  of  Art  with  which 
we  were  surrounded,  but  lamented  that  there  was  not  to  be 
found  that  Nature  which  is  so  admirable  in  the  inferior 
schools  j  and  he  supposed  with  Felibien,  Du  Piles,  and  other 
theorists,  that  such  an  union  of  different  excellencies  would 
be  the  perfection  of  Art.  He  was  not  aware,  that  the  nar- 
row idea  of  nature,  of  which  he  lamented  the  absence  in 
the  works  of  those  great  Artists,  would  have  destroyed  the 
grandeur  of  the  general  ideas  which  he  admired,  and  which 
was  indeed  the  cause  of  his  admiration.  My  opinions 
being  then  confused  and  unsettled,  I  was  in  danger  of  being 
borne  down  by  this  kind  of  plausible  reasoning,  though  I 
remember  I  then  had  a  dawning  of  suspicion  that  it  was 
not  sound  doctrine ;  and  at  the  same  time  I  was  unwilling 
obstinately  to  refuse  assent  to  what  I  was  unable  to  confute. 

That  the  young  Artist  may  not  be  seduced  from  the 
right  path,  by  following,  what,  at  first  view,  he  may  think 
the  light  of  Reason,  and  which  is  indeed  Reason  in  part, 
but  not  in  the  whole,  has  been  much  the  object  of  these 
Discourses. 

I  have  taken  every  opportunity  of  recommending  a  ra- 
tional method  of  study,  as  of  the  last  importance.  The 
great,  I  may  say  the  sole  use  of  an  Academy  is,  to  put,  and 
for  some  time  to  keep,  Students  in  that  course,  that  too 


272 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


much  indulgence  may  not  be  given  to  peculiarity,  and  that 
a  young  man  may  not  be  taught  to  believe,  that  what  is 
generally  good  for  others  is  not  good  for  him. 

I  have  strongly  inculcated  in  my  former  Discourses,  as 
I  do  in  this,  my  last,  the  wisdom  and  necessity  of  previously 
obtaining  the  appropriated  instruments  of  the  Art,  in  a  first 
correct  design,  and  a  plain  manly  coloring  before  any  thing 
more  is  attempted.  But  by  this  I  would  not  wish  to  cramp 
and  fetter  the  mind,  or  discourage  those  who  follow  (as 
most  of  us  may  at  one  time  have  followed)  the  suggestion 
of  a  strong  inclination :  something  must  be  conceded  to 
great  and  irresistible  impulses  :  perhaps  every  Student  must 
not  be  strictly  bound  to  general  methods,  if  they  strongly 
thwart  the  peculiar  turn  of  his  own  mind.  I  must  confess 
that  it  is  not  absolutely  of  much  consequence,  whether  he 
proceeds  in  the  general  method  of  seeking  first  to  acquire 
mechanical  accuracy,  before  he  attempts  poetical  flights, 
provided  he  diligently  studies  to  attain  the  full  perfection 
of  the  style  he  pursues ;  whether  like  Parmegiano,  he  en- 
deavors at  grace  and  grandeur  of  manner  before  he  has 
learned  correctness  of  drawing,  if  like  him  he  feels  his  own 
wants,  and  will  labor,  as  that  eminent  artist  did,  to  supply 
those  wants ;  whether  he  starts  from  the  East  or  from  the 
West,  if  he  relaxes  in  no  exertion  to  arrive  ultimately  at 
the  same  goal.  The  first  public  work  of  Parmegiano  is  the 
St.  Eustachius,  in  the  church  of  St.  Petronius  in  Bologna, 
and  was  done  when  he  was  a  boy;  and  one  of  the  last  of 
his  works  is  the  Moses  breaking  the  tables  in  Parma.  In 
the  former  there  is  certainly  something  of  grandeur  in  the 
outline,  or  in  the  conception  of  the  figure,  which  discovers 
the  dawnings  of  future  greatness,  of  a  young  mind  impreg- 
nated with  the  sublimity  of  Michael  Angelo,  whose  style 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


273 


he  here  attempts  to  imitate,  though  he  could  not  then  draw 
the  human  figure  with  any  common  degree  of  correctness. 
But  this  same  Parmegiano,  when  in  his  more  mature  age 
he  painted  the  Moses,  had  so  completely  supplied  his  first 
defects,  that  we  are  here  at  a  loss  which  to  admire  most, 
the  correctness  of  drawing,  or  the  grandeur  of  the  concep- 
tion. As  a  confirmation  of  its  great  excellence,  and  of  the 
impression  which  it  leaves  on  the  minds  of  elegant  spec- 
tators, I  may  observe,  that  our  great  Lyric  Poet,  when  he 
conceived  his  sublime  idea  of  the  indignant  Welsh  Bard, 
acknowledged,  that  though  many  years  had  intervened,  he 
had  warmed  his  imagination  with  the  remembrance  of  this 
noble  figure  of  Parmegiano. 

When  we  consider  that  Michael  Angelo  was  the  great 
archetype  to  whom  Parmegiano  was  indebted  for  that  gran- 
deur which  we  find  in  his  works,  and  from  whom  all  his 
contemporaries  and  successors  have  derived  whatever  they 
have  possessed  of  the  dignified  and  the  majestic;  that  he 
was  the  bright  luminary,  from  whom  Painting  has  bor- 
rowed a  new  lustre ;  that  under  his  hands  it  assumed  a 
new  appearance,  and  is  become  another  and  superior  art; 
I  may  be  excused  if  I  take  this  opportunity,  as  I  have 
hitherto  taken  every  occasion,  to  turn  your  attention  to 
this  exalted  Founder  and  Father  of  Modern  Art,  of  which 
he  was  not  only  the  inventor,  but  which,  by  the  divine 
energy  of  his  own  mind,  he  carried  at  once  to  its  highest 
point  of  possible  perfection. 

The  sudden  maturity  to  which  Michael  Angelo  brought 
our  Art,  and  the  comparative  feebleness  of  his  followers  and 
imitators,  might  perhaps  be  reasonably,  at  least  plausibly 
explained,  if  we  had  time  for  such  an  examination.  At 
present  I  shall  only  observe,  that  the  subordinate  parts  of 


274  THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 

our  Art,  and  perhaps  of  other  Arts,  expand  themselves  by 
a  slow  and  progressive  growth ;  but  those  which  depend  on 
a  native  vigor  of  imagination  generally  burst  forth  at  once 
in  fulness  of  beauty.  Of  this  Homer  probably,  and  Shak- 
speare  more  assuredly,  are  signal  examples.  Michael  Angelo 
possessed  the  poetical  part  of  our  art  in  a  most  eminent  de- 
gree; and  the  same  daring  spirit,  which  urged  him  first  to 
explore  the  unknown  regions  of  the  imagination,  delighted 
with  the  novelty,  and  animated  by  the  success  of  his  disco- 
veries, could  not  have  failed  to  stimulate  and  impel  him 
forward  in  his  career  beyond  those  limits,  which  his  follow- 
ers, destitute  of  the  same  incentives,  had  not  strength  to 
pass. 

To  distinguish  between  correctness  of  drawing,  and  that 
part  which  respects  the  imagination,  we  may  say  the  one 
approaches  to  the  mechanical,  (which  in  its  way  too  may 
make  just  pretensions  to  genius,)  and  the  other  to  the 
poetical.  To  encourage  a  solid  and  vigorous  course  of 
study,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  suggest,  that  perhaps  a  con- 
fidence in  the  mechanic  produces  a  boldness  in  the  poetic. 
He  that  is  sure  of  the  goodness  of  his  ship  and  tackle,  puts 
out  fearlessly  from  the  shore ;  and  he  who  knows  that  his 
hand  can  execute  whatever  his  fancy  can  suggest,  sports 
with  more  freedom  in  embodying  the  visionary  forms  of 
his  own  creation.  I  will  not  say  Michael  Angelo  was  emi- 
nently poetical,  only  because  he  was  greatly  mechanical ; 
but  I  am  sure  that  mechanic  excellence  invigorated  and 
emboldened  his  mind  to  carry  painting  into  the  regions  of 
poetry,  and  to  emulate  that  art  in  its  most  adventurous 
flights.  Michael  Angelo  equally  possessed  both  qualifica- 
tions. Yet  of  mechanic  excellence  there  were  certainly 
great  examples  to  be  found  in  Ancient  Sculpture,  and  par- 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


275 


ticularly  in  the  fragment  known  by  the  name  of  the  Torso 
of  Michael  Angelo  )  but  of  that  grandeur  of  character,  air, 
and  attitude,  which  he  threw  into  all  his  figures,  and  which 
so  well  corresponds  with  the  grandeur  of  his  outline,  there 
was  no  example  ;  it  could  therefore  proceed  only  from  the 
most  poetical  and  sublime  imagination. 

It  is  impossible  not  to  express  some  surprise,  that  the 
race  of  Painters  who  preceded  Michael  Angelo,  men  of  ac- 
knowledged great  abilities,  should  never  have  thought  of 
transferring  a  little  of  that  grandeur  of  outline  which  they 
could  not  but  see  and  admire  in  Ancient  Sculpture,  into 
their  own  works ;  but  they  appear  to  have  considered  Sculp- 
ture as  the  later  Schools  of  Artists  look  at  the  inventions 
of  Michael  Angelo, — as  something  to  be  admired,  but  with 
which  they  have  nothing  to  do :  quod  super  nos,  nihil  ad 
nos.  The  Artists  of  that  age,  even  Raffaelle  himself,  seemed 
to  be  going  on  very  contentedly  in  the  dry  manner  of  Pietro 
Perugino ;  and  if  Michael  Angelo  had  never  appeared,  the 
Art  might  still  have  continued  in  the  same  style. 

Beside  Rome  and  Florence,  where  the  grandeur  of  this 
style  was  first  displayed,  it  was  on  this  Foundation  that  the 
Caracci  built  the  truly  great  Academical  Bolognian  school, 
of  which  the  first  stone  was  laid  by  Pellegrino  Tibaldi.  He 
first  introduced  this  style  among  them ;  and  many  instances 
might  be  given  in  which  he  appears  to  have  possessed  as  by 
inheritance,  the  true,  genuine,  noble  and  elevated  mind  of 
Michael  Angelo.  Though  we  can  not  venture  to  speak  of 
him  with  the  same  fondness  as  his  countrymen,  and  call 
him,  as  the  Caracci  did,  Nbstro  Michael  Angelo  riformato; 
yet  he  has  a  right  to  be  considered  amongst  the  first  and 
greatest  of  his  followers ;  there  are  certainly  many  drawings 
and  inventions  of  his,  of  which  Michael  Angelo  himself 


276  THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 

might  not  disdain  to  be  supposed  the  author,  or  that  they 
should  be,  as  in  fact  they  often  are,  mistaken  for  his.  I 
will  mention  one  particular  instance,  because  it  is  found  in 
a  book  which  is  in  every  young  Artist's  hand ; — Bishop's 
Ancient  Statues.  He  there  has  introduced  a  print,  repre- 
senting Polyphemus,  from  a  drawing  of  Tibaldi,  and  has 
inscribed  it  with  the  name  of  Michael  Angelo,  to  whom  he 
has  also  in  the  same  book  attributed  a  Sybil  of  Raffaelle. 
Both  these  figures,  it  is  true,  are  professedly  in  Michael 
Angelo's  style  and  spirit,  and  even  worthy  of  his  hand. 
But  we  know  that  the  former  is  painted  in  the  Institute 
a  Bologna  by  Tibaldi,  and  the  other  in  the  Pace  by 
Raffaelle. 

The  Caracci,  it  is  acknowledged,  adopted  the  mechanical 
part  with  sufficient  success.  But  the  divine  part  which  ad- 
dresses itself  to  the  imagination,  as  possessed  by  Michael 
Angelo  or  Tibaldi,  was  beyond  their  grasp  :  they  formed, 
however,  a  most  respectable  school,  a  style  more  on  the 
level,  and  calculated  to  please  a  greater  number ;  and  if 
excellence  of  this  kind  is  to  be  valued  according  to  the 
number,  rather  than  the  weight  and  quality  of  admirers,  it 
would  assume  even  a  higher  rank  in  art.  The  same,  in 
some  sort,  may  be  said  of  Tintoret,  Paulo  Veronese,  and 
others  of  the  Venetian  Painters.  They  certainly  much  ad- 
vanced the  dignity  of  their  style  by  adding  to  their  fasci- 
nating [powers  of  coloring  something  of  the  strength  of 
Michael  Angelo ;  at  the  same  time  it  may  still  be  a  doubt, 
how  far  their  ornamental  elegance  would  be  an  advanta- 
geous addition  to  his  grandeur.  But  if  there  is  any  man- 
ner of  Painting  which  may  be  said  to  unite  kindly  with  his 
style,  it  is  that  of  Titian.  His  handling,  the  manner  in 
which  his  colors  are  left  on  the  canvass,  appears  to  proceed 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


277 


(as  far  as  that  goes)  from  a  congenial  mind,  equally  dis- 
dainful of  vulgar  criticism. 

Michael  Angelo's  strength  thus  qualified,  and  made 
more  palatable  to  the  general  taste,  reminds  me  of  an  ob- 
servation which  I  heard  a  learned  critic*  make,  when  it 
was  accidentally  remarked,  that  our  translation  of  Homer, 
however  excellent,  did  not  convey  the  character,  nor  had 
the  grand  air  of  the  original.  He  replied,  that  if  Pope  had 
not  clothed  the  naked  Majesty  of  Homer  with  the  graces 
and  elegancies  of  modern  fashions, — though  the  real  dignity 
of  Homer  was  degraded  by  such  a  dress,  his  translation 
would  not  have  met  with  such  a  favorable  reception,  and 
he  must  have  been  contented  with  fewer  readers. 

Many  of  the  Flemish  painters,  who  studied  at  Rome  in 
that  great  era  of  our  art,  such  as  Francis  Hloris,  Hemskirk, 
Michael  Coxis,  Jerom  Cock,  and  others,  returned  to  their 
own  country  with  as  much  of  this  grandeur  as  they  could 
carry.  But  like  seeds  falling  on  a  soil  not  prepared  or 
adapted  to  their  nature,  the  manner  of  Michael  Angelo 
thrived  but  little  with  them  j  perhaps,  however,  they  con- 
tributed to  prepare  the  way  for  that  free,  unconstrained, 
and  liberal  outline,  which  was  afterwards  introduced  by 
Rubens  through  the  medium  of  the  Venetian  Painters. 

The  grandeur  of  style  has  been  in  different  degrees  dis- 
seminated over  all  Europe.  Some  caught  it  by  living  at 
the  time,  and  coming  into  contact  with  the  original  author, 
whilst  others  received  it  at  second  hand ;  and  being  every- 
where adopted,  it  has  totally  changed  the  whole  taste  and 
style  of  design,  if  there  could  be  said  to  be  any  style  before 
his  time.    Our  art,  in  consequence,  now  assumes  a  rank  to 


*  Dr.  Johnson. 
24 


278 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE, 


which  it  could  never  have  dared  to  aspire,  if  Michael  Angelo 
had  not  discovered  to  the  world  the  hidden  powers  which 
it  possessed.  Without  his  assistance  we  never  could  have 
been  convinced,  that  Painting  was  capable  of  producing  an 
adequate  representation  of  the  persons  and  actions  of  the 
heroes  of  the  Iliad. 

I  would  ask  any  man  qualified  to  judge  of  such  works, 
whether  he  can  look  with  indifference  at  the  personification 
of  the  Supreme  Being  in  the  centre  of  the  Capella  Sestina, 
or  the  figures  of  the  Sybils  which  surround  that  chapel, 
to  which  we  may  add  the  statue  of  Moses ;  and  whether 
the  same  sensations  are  not  excited  by  those  works,  as 
what  he  may  remember  to  have  felt  from  the  most  sublime 
passages  of  Homer?  I  mention  those  figures  more  particu- 
larly, as  they  come  nearer  to  a  comparison  with  his  Jupiter, 
his  demi-gods,  and  heroes ;  those  Sybils  and  Pi-ophets  being 
a  kind  of  intermediate  beings  between  men  and  angels. 
Though  instances  may  be  produced  in  the  works  of  other 
Painters,  which  may  justly  stand  in  competition  with  those 
I  have  mentioned,  such  as  the  Isaiah,  and  the  vision  of 
Ezekiel,  by  Raffaelle,  the  St.  Mark  of  Frate  Bartolomeo, 
and  many  others;  yet  these,  it  must  be  allowed,  are  inven- 
tions so  much  in  Michael  Angelo' s  manner  of  thinking, 
that  they  may  be  truly  considered  as  so  many  rays,  which 
discover  manifestly  the  centre  from  whence  they  emanated. 

The  sublime  in  Painting,  as  in  Poetry,  so  overpowers, 
and  takes  such  a  possession  of  the  whole  mind,  that  no 
room  is  left  for  attention  to  minute  criticism.  The  little 
elegancies  of  art  in  the  presence  of  these  great  ideas  thus 
greatly  expressed,  lose  all  their  value,  and  are,  for  the 
instant  at  least,  felt  to  be  unworthy  of  our  notice.  The 
correct  judgment,  the  purity  of  taste  which  characterise 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


279 


RafFaelle,  the  exquisite  grace  of  Correggio  and  Parme- 
giano,  all  disappear  before  them. 

That  Michael  Angelo  was  capricious  in  his  inventions, 
can  not  be  denied ;  and  this  may  make  some  circumspection 
necessary  in  studying  his  works ;  for  though  they  appear 
to  become  him,  an  imitation  of  them  is  always  dangerous, 
and  will  prove  sometimes  ridiculous.  "  Within  that  circle 
none  durst  walk  but  he."  To  me,  I  confess,  his  caprice 
does  not  lower  the  estimation  of  his  genius,  even  though 
it  is  sometimes,  I  acknowledge,  carried  to  the  extreme : 
and  however  those  eccentric  excursions  are  considered,  we 
must  at  the  same  time  recollect  that  those  faults,  if  they 
are  faults,  are  such  as  never  could  occur  to  a  mean  and 
vulgar  mind :  that  they  flowed  from  the  same  source  which 
produced  his  greatest  beauties,  and  were  therefore  such  as 
none  but  himself  was  capable  of  committing :  they  were 
the  powerful  impulses  of  a  mind  unused  to  subjection  of 
any  kind,  and  too  high  to  be  controlled  by  cold  criticism. 

Many  see  his  daring  extravagance,  who  can  see  nothing 
else.  A  young  Artist  finds  the  works  of  Michael  Angelo 
so  totally  different  from  those  of  his  own  master,  or  of 
those  with  whom  he  is  surrounded,  that  he  may  be  easily 
persuaded  to  abandon  and  neglect  studying  a  style  which 
appears  to  him  wild,  mysterious,  and  above  his  comprehen- 
sion, and  which  he  therefore  feels  no  disposition  to  admire ; 
a  good  disposition,  which  he  concludes  that  he  should 
naturally  have,  if  the  style  deserved  it.  It  is  necessary, 
therefore,  that  students  should  be  prepared  for  the  disap- 
pointment which  they  may  experience  at  their  first  setting 
out ;  and  they  must  be  cautioned,  that  probably  they  will 
not,  at  first  sight,  approve. 

It  must  be  remembered,  that  this  great  style  itself  is 


280  THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 

artificial  in  the  highest  degree  :  it  presupposes  in  the  spec- 
tator, a  cultivated  and  prepared  artificial  state  of  mind.  It  is 
an  absurdity  therefore,  to  suppose  that  we  are  born  with  this 
taste,  though  we  are  with  the  seeds  of  it,  which,  by  the  heat 
and  kindly  influence  of  this  genius,  may  be  ripened  in  us. 

A  late  Philosopher  and  Critic*  has  observed,  speaking 
of  taste,  that  ice  are  on  no  account  to  expect  that  fine  things 
should  descend  to  us — our  taste,  if  possible,  must  be  made  to 
ascend  to  them.  The  same  learned  writer  recommends  to 
us  even  to  feign  a  relish,  till  ive  find  a  relish  come;  and 
feel,  that  what  began  in  fiction,  terminates  in  reality.  If 
there  be  in  our  Art  any  thing  of  that  agreement  or  compact, 
such  as  I  apprehend  there  is  in  music,  with  which  the 
Critic  is  necessarily  required  previously  to  be  acquainted, 
in  order  to  form  a  correct  judgment :  the  comparison  with 
this  art  will  illustrate  what  I  have  said  on  these  points,  and 
tend  to  show  the  probability,  we  may  say  the  certainty,  that 
men  are  not  born  with  a  relish  for  those  arts  in  their  most 
refined  state,  which  as  they  can  not  understand,  they  can 
not  be  impressed  with  their  effects.  This  great  style  of 
Michael  Angelo  is  as  far  removed  from  the  simple  repre- 
sentation of  the  common  objects  of  nature,  as  the  most  re- 
fined Italian  music  is  from  the  inartificial  notes  of  nature, 
from  whence  they  both  profess  to  originate.  But  without 
such  a  supposed  compact,  we  may  be  very  confident  that 
the  highest  state  of  refinement  in  either  of  those  arts  will 
not  be  relished  without  a  long  and  industrious  attention. 

In  pursuing  this  great  Art,  it  must  be  acknowledged 
that  we  labor  under  greater  difficulties  than  those  who  were 
born  in  the  age  of  its  discovery,  and  whose  minds  from  their 


*  James  Harris,  Esq. — R. 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


281 


infancy  were  habituated  to  this  style ;  who  learned  it  as 
language,  as  their  mother  tongue.  They  had  no  mean  taste 
to  unlearn ;  they  needed  no  persuasive  discourse  to  allure 
them  to  a  favorable  reception  of  it,  no  abstruse  investigation 
of  its  principles  to  convince  them  of  the  great  latent  truths 
on  which  it  is  founded.  We  are  constrained,  in  these  latter 
days,  to  have  recourse  to  a  sort  of  Grammar  and  Dictionary, 
as  the  only  means  of  recovering  a  dead  language.  It  was 
by  them  learned  by  rote,  and  perhaps  better  learned  that 
way  than  by  precept. 

The  style  of  Michael  Angelo,  which  I  have  compared  to 
language,  and  which  may,  poetically  speaking,  be  called 
the  language  of  the  gods,  now  no  longer  exists,  as  it  did  in 
the  fifteenth  century ;  yet,  with  the  aid  of  diligence,  we  may 
in  a  great  measure  supply  the  deficiency  which  I  mentioned 
— of  not  having  his  works  so  perpetually  before  our  eyes — 
by  having  recourse  to  casts  from  his  models  and  designs  in 
Sculpture ;  to  drawings,  or  even  copies  of  those  drawings  ; 
to  prints,  which,  however  ill  executed,  still  convey  some- 
thing by  which  this  taste  may  be  formed,  and  a  relish  may 
be  fixed  and  established  in  our  minds  for  this  grand  style 
of  invention.  Some  examples  of  this  kind  we  have  in  the 
Academy ;  and  I  sincerely  wish  there  were  more,  that  the 
younger  students  might  in  their  first  nourishment  imbibe 
this  taste ;  whilst  others,  though  settled  in  the  practice  of 
the  common-place  style  of  Painters,  might  infuse,  by  this 
means,  a  grandeur  into  their  works. 

I  shall  now  make  some  remarks  on  the  course  which 
I  think  most  proper  to  be  pursued  in  such  a  study.  I  wish 
you  not  to  go  so  much  to  the  derivative  streams,  as  to  the 
fountain-head ;  though  the  copies  are  not  to  be  neglected ; 
because  they  may  give  you  hints  in  what  manner  you 

24* 


282  THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 

may  copy,  and  how  the  genius  of  one  man  may  be  made  to 
fit  the  peculiar  manner  of  another. 

To  recover  this  lost  taste,  I  would  recommend  young 
Artists  to  study  the  works  of  Michael  Angelo,  as  he  him- 
self did  the  works  of  the  ancient  Sculptors;  he  began 
when  a  child,  a  copy  of  a  mutilated  Satyr's  head,  and 
finished  in  his  model  what  was  wanting  in  the  original. 
In  the  same  manner,  the  first  exercise  that  I  would  recom- 
mend to  the  young  artist  when  he  first  attempts  invention, 
is,  to  select  every  figure,  if  possible,  from  the  inventions 
of  Michael  Angelo.  If  such  borrowed  figures  will  not 
bend  to  his  purpose,  and  he  is  constrained  to  make  a 
change  to  supply  a  figure  himself,  that  figure  will  necessa- 
rily be  in  the  same  style  with  the  rest ;  and  his  taste  will 
by  this  means  be  naturally  initiated,  and  nursed  in  the  lap 
of  grandeur.  He  will  sooner  perceive  what  constitutes 
this  grand  style  by  one  practical  trial  than  by  a  thousand 
speculations,  and  he  will  in  some  sort  procure  to  himself 
that  advantage  which  in  these  later  ages  has  been  denied 
him ;  the  advantage  of  having  the  greatest  of  Artists  for 
his  master  and  instructor. 

The  next  lesson  should  be,  to  change  the  purpose  of 
the  figures  without  changing  the  attitude,  as  Tintoret  has 
done  with  the  Samson  of  Michael  Angelo.  Instead  of  the 
figure  which  Samson  bestrides,  he  has  placed  an  eagle 
under  him;  and  instead  of  the  jaw-bone,  thunder  and 
lightning  in  his  right  hand ;  and  thus  it  becomes  a  Jupiter, 
Titian,  in  the  same  manner,  has  taken  the  figure  which 
represents  God  dividing  the  light  from  the  darkness  in 
the  vault  of  the  Capecla  Sestina,  and  has  introduced  it  in 
the  famous  battle  of  Cadore,  so  much  celebrated  by  Va- 
sari ;  and  extraordinary  as  it  may  seem,  it  is  here  con- 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


283 


verted  to  a  general,  falling  from  his  horse.  A  real  judge 
who  should  look  at  this  picture,  would  immediately  pro- 
nounce the  attitude  of  that  figure  to  be  in  a  greater  style 
than  any  other  figure  of  the  composition.  These  two 
instances  may  be  sufficient,  though  many  more  might  be 
given  in  their  works,  as  well  as  in  those  of  other  great 
Artists. 

When  the  Student  has  been  habituated  to  this  grand 
conception  of  the  Art,  when  the  relish  for  this  style  is 
established,  makes  a  part  of  himself,  and  is  woven  into  his 
mind,  he  will,  by  this  time,  have  got  a  power  of  selecting 
from  whatever  occurs  in  nature  that  is  grand,  and  corre- 
sponds with  that  taste  which  he  has  now  acquired,  and  will 
pass  over  whatever  is  common-place  and  insipid.  He  may 
then  bring  to  the  mart  such  works  of  his  own  proper 
invention  as  may  enrich  and  increase  the  general  stock  of 
invention  in  our  Art. 

I  am  confident  of  the  truth  and  propriety  of  the  advice 
which  I  have  recommended ;  at  the  same  time  I  am  aware, 
how  much  by  this  advice  I  have  laid  myself  open  to  the 
sarcasms  of  those  critics  who  imagine  our  Art  to  be  a 
matter  of  inspiration.  But  I  should  be  sorry  it  should 
appear  even  to  myself  that  I  wanted  that  courage  which  I 
have  recommended  to  the  Students  in  another  way :  equal 
courage  perhaps  is  required  in  the  adviser  and  the  advised ; 
they  both  must  equally  dare  and  bid  defiance  to  narrow 
criticism  and  vulgar  opinion. 

That  the  Art  has  been  in  a  gradual  state  of  decline, 
from  the  age  of  Michael  Angelo  to  the  present,  must  be 
acknowledged ;  and  we  may  reasonably  impute  this  declen- 
sion to  the  same  cause  to  which  the  ancient  Critics  and 
Philosophers  have  imputed  the  corruption  of  eloquence. 


284 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


Indeed  the  same  causes  are  likely  at  all  times  and  in  all 
ages  to  produce  the  same  effects;  indolence — not  taking 
the  same  pains  as  our  great  predecessors  took — desiring  to 
find  a  shorter  way — are  the  general  imputed  causes.  The 
words  of  Petronius*  are  very  remarkable.  After  opposing 
the  natural  chaste  beauty  of  the  eloquence  of  former  ages 
to  the  strained  inflated  style  then  in  fashion,  "  neither/' 
says  he,  "  has  the  Art  of  PaintiDg  had  a  better  fate,  after 
the  boldness  of  the  Egyptians  had  found  out  a  compen- 
dious way  to  execute  so  great  an  art."  • 

By  compendious,  I  understand  him  to  mean  a  mode  of 
Painting,  such  as  has  infected  the  style  of  the  later  Painters 
of  Italy  and  France ;  common-place,  without  thought,  and 
with  as  little  trouble,  working  as  by  a  receipt;  in  contra- 
distinction to  that  style  for  which  even  a  relish  can  not  be 
acquired  without  care  and  long  attention,  and  most  certainly 
the  power  of  executing  can  not  be  obtained  without  the  most 
laborious  application. 

I  have  endeavored  to  stimulate  the  ambition  of  Artists 
to  tread  in  this  great  path  of  glory,  and,  as  well  as  I  can, 
have  pointed  out  the  track  which  leads  to  it,  and  have  at 
the  same  time  told  them  the  price  at  which  it  may  be  ob- 
tained. It  is  an  ancient  saying,  that  labor  is  the  price 
which  the  gods  have  set  upon  every  thing  valuable. 

The  great  Artist  who  has  been  so  much  the  subject  of 
the  present  Discourse,  was  distinguished  even  from  his 
infancy  for  his  indefatigable  diligence ;  and  this  was  con- 
tinued through  his  whole  life,  till  prevented  by  extreme  old 
age.  The  poorest  of  men,  as  he  observed  himself,  did  not 
labor  from  necessity,  more  than  he  did  from  choice.  In- 

*  Pictura  quoque  non  alium  exitum  fecit,  postquam  iEgyptio- 
rum  audaciatam  magnte  artis  compendiariam  invenit. — R. 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


285 


deed,  from  all  the  circumstances  related  of  his  life,  he 
appears  not  to  have  had  the  least  conception  that  his  art  was 
to  be  acquired  by  any  other  means  than  great  labor;  and 
yet  he,  of  all  men  that  ever  lived,  might  make  the  greatest 
pretensions  to  the  efficacy  of  native  genius  and  inspiration. 
I  have  no  doubt  that  he  would  have  thought  it  no  disgrace, 
that  it  should  be  said  of  him,  as  he  himself  said  of 
Kaffaelle,  that  he  did  not  possess  his  art  from  nature,  but 
by  long  study.*  He  was  conscious  that  the  great  excellence 
to  which  he  arrived  was  gained  by  dint  of  labor,  and  was 
unwilling  to  have  it  thought  that  any  transcendant  skill, 
however  natural  its  effects  might  seem,  could  be  purchased 
at  a  cheaper  price  than  he  had  paid  for  it.  This  seems  to  # 
have  been  the  true  drift  of  his  observation.  We  can  not 
suppose  it  made  with  any  intention  of  depreciating  the 
genius  of  Raffaelle,  of  whom  he  always  spoke,  as  Condivi 
says,  with  the  greatest  respect :  though  they  were  rivals,  no 
such  illiberality  existed  between  them ;  and  Raffaelle  on  his 
part  entertained  the  greatest  veneration  for  Michael  Angelo, 
as  appears  from  the  speech  which  is  recorded  of  him,  that  he 
congratulated  himself,  and  thanked  God,  that  he  was  born 
in  the  same  age  with  that  painter. 

If  the  high  esteem  and  veneration  in  which  Michael 
Angelo  has  been  held  by  all  nations  and  in  all  ages,  should 
be  put  to  the  account  of  prejudice,  it  must  still  be  granted 
that  those  prejudices,  could  not  have  been  entertained  with- 
out a  cause :  the  ground  of  our  prejudice  then  becomes 
the  source  of  our  admiration.  But  from  whatever  it  pro- 
ceeds, or  whatever  it  is  called,  it  will  not,  I  hope,  be  thought 
presumptuous  in  me  to  appear  in  the  train,  I  can  not  say  of 

*  Che  Raffaelle  non  ebbe  quest'  arte  da  natura,  ma  per  longo  stu- 
dio.— R. 


286 


THE  FIFTEENTH  DISCOURSE. 


his  imitators,  but  of  his  admirers.  I  have  taken  another 
course,  one  more  suited  to  my  abilities,  and  to  the  taste 
of  the  times  in  which  I  live.  Yet,  however  unequal  I  feel 
myself  to  that  attempt,  were  I  now  to  begin  the  world 
again,  I  would  tread  in  the  steps  of  that  great  master  :  to 
kiss  the  hem  of  his  garment,  to  catch  the  slightest  of  his 
perfections,  would  be  glory  and  distinction  enough  for  an 
ambitious  man. 

I  feel  a  self-congratulation  in  knowing  myself  capable 
of;  such  sensations  as  he  intended  to  excite.  I  reflect,  not 
without  vanity,  that  these  Discourses  bear  testimony  of  my 
admiration  of  that  truly  divine  man ;  and  I  should  desire 
,  that  the  last  words  which  I  should  pronounce  in  this  Acad- 
emy, and  from  this  place,  might  be  the  name  of — Michael 
Angelo.* 

*  Unfortunately  for  mankind,  these  were  the  last  words  pro- 
nounced by  this  great  Painter  from  the  Academical  chair.  He 
died  about  fourteen  months  after  this  Discourse  was  delivered. — M. 


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